


Gubraithian Fire

by IdunAurora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (in the past), (nothing graphic) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Magic, Quidditch, Reduced age gaps, Role Reversal, Sexual Content, Teenagers, Viktor is 16 in the beginning, Young Katsuki Yuuri, Young Victor Nikiforov, Yuuri is 17
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2018-11-16 15:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 145,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11256162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdunAurora/pseuds/IdunAurora
Summary: Seven years have passed since the end of the Second Wizarding War, and with the world turning a little brighter in the aftermath, the wizarding world has grown a little closer. Mahoutokoro might be the logical school of choice if you live in Japan, and Uagadou if you live anywhere in Africa, but if Hogwarts just so happens to have a more intriguing curriculum, why not go there instead, now that they actually accept students from outside the UK and Ireland?Well, frankly, Ludmila and Ilia had little choice but to send Viktor there just in time for his sixth year of education. With a dark wizard, or several of them, on their heels, there really had been no other option than to flee from Russia, settling down in a flat in London's West End instead, with top-rated aurors on the case and a chandelier the size of the moon in the living room.With worry gnawing in the back of his mind and his heart attempting to hammer itself through his rib-cage, Viktor plunges himself into studies, Quidditch, too many towers, friendship, and... wait, who's that guy with black hair and glasses that suddenly set the world aflame by breathing in his general direction?Welcome, students, to the Hogwarts Role Reversal AU.





	1. Prologue on Beaumont Street

**Author's Note:**

> This is the Hogwarts Role Reversal AU someone actually asked for (crazy person, you know who you are).
> 
> The full prompt read as follows (translated from Swedish):  
> "Hogwarts Role Reversal AU. Yes, it has to be at Hogwarts. No, you can't use the Triwizard Tournament as an excuse. Include as many YOI-characters as possible, and since it's a crossover (because it is), have them interact with HP-characters, too.
> 
> Bonus points if a) Yuuri, Viktor and Yuri are all in different houses, b) evil wizard(s)/witch(es) that aren't Voldemort or Death Eaters are included (and relevant), and c) Yuuri and Viktor have different positions on the Quidditch teams. Good luck, honey!"
> 
> ...well, let's see how this turns out, shall we?
> 
> The first chapter here is more of a prologue to give it all some background. In the next one, we're off to Hoggy Warty Hogwarts for real... or, at least, Viktor and the other students are.
> 
> Um... enjoy?

At first glance, the apartment building on Beaumont Street looked exactly like any other apartment building you could expect to find in London’s West End. Red tiles and white-framed, high windows, an iron fence in the front not even reaching the ground floor windowsills that mostly served to protect patches of ridiculously well-cared for grass, the fancy wooden entrance door framed by a couple of sturdy pillars that served no other purpose than to look “posh.” Was that what it was called?

Maybe it was, Viktor couldn’t be exactly sure. Honestly, after having spent a week staring through every window available in the London apartment, he wouldn’t have been surprised if he found a statue literally carved into the façade of a building.

…oh, wait; that was the building across the street, actually. The one decorated with a cherub with wings and harp. Yeah.

But let’s backtrack a little. _Krhm._

As said, at first glance, the apartment building on Beaumont Street in London’s West End looked like any other, and to every muggle out there, it would continue to be just that. Ordinary. In fact, it would also continue to be and look ordinary to every wizard and his mother that didn’t know of the family that had taken up residence in one of the two-bedroom apartments on the third floor a week earlier.

When the family had arrived, it had been a humble, two-bedroom apartment with a decently sized living room, a cozy kitchen, and a newly-renovated bathroom with a tub that didn’t have toenails and hair stuck in the drain; thank Merlin. Now, a week later, all the rooms had been stretched out in size to make any guest wonder if they had, indeed, entered a two-bedroom flat or an extravagant penthouse apartment.

Ludmila Nikiforova didn’t really have the word “modest” anywhere remotely close to her dictionary, and her husband was more than happy to make her feel at home in her new surroundings.

Viktor wasn’t really complaining, either.

At the ripe age of sixteen, he was showing clear signs of taking after his mother when it came to, so to say, being comfortable. Well, he might have shown it since he was twelve, when he refused to leave the store until his father finally gave in and bought him a Firebolt. Or actually, it probably was when he was seven and demanded to get a bed the size of his parents’ all for himself.

…scratch all that. They knew he was going to follow in her footsteps upon discovering he only ever cared for toys that gleamed and glimmered. A wooden rocking horse? Pfft. No way. Now, give the golden music box back.

To say that he was spoiled was probably an understatement.

Luckily for Viktor’s parents (and himself), his mentor was always more than ready to pull his head out of the clouds... Even if it made the old man's hair turn grey and thin out on his head.

“Put your wand in the trunk, Vitya.”

Viktor spun around to greet his mentor with a dazzling smile, all white teeth, big blue eyes blinking innocently at the old man, twirling a strand of long, silver hair around his index finger.

“But it already _is_ in the trunk, Yakov.” He claimed, turning up the charm to levels a Veela would be jealous of. “Along with everything else, as instructed. Books, cauldron, broomstick, school robes- _ah!_ “

The sentence ended with an undignified yelp as Yakov produced his wand from seemingly nowhere and flicked it, making Viktor’s own spruce wand fly out of the inner pocket of his deep blue robes and straight into his mentor’s hand. Yakov looked as unimpressed as always.

Viktor, however, didn’t even blush, smile turning sugary sweet and utterly unapologetic instead.

“Oops?” he lilted, batting his eyelashes.

He should have learned, with about a decade of experience, that sweet charm had zero effect on Potions Master Feltsman.

“I might be old, but I’m not blind.” He grunted, flicking his wand again, sending Viktor’s straight into his chest, forcing him to catch it with embarrassingly fumbling hands. “Wand in the trunk, _pashaluysta_.”

Childish as he could be when cornered, Viktor stuck out his tongue at his mentor before doing as told, unwilling to admit defeat but resigning himself to it anyway. Yakov gave up a light huff.

“Starting tomorrow, it’s Professor Feltsman to you again, Mr. Nikiforov.” He reminded Viktor sternly as the teenager closed and locked the trunk. “Different school, sure, but I’m still your teacher, and you better start doing something about that attitude of yours. Other teachers may not be as forgiving as I am.”

Viktor held back a laugh that was dangerously close to push itself out of him. Yakov being “forgiving” towards him was as likely to happen as it was for Ludmila Nikiforov to agree to live in a broom closet for a year. Perhaps fortunately enough for Yakov’s life-span, he didn’t get a chance to comment before the old man finally said: “They’ll be here soon. Pull yourself together.”

With that, he turned around and exited the room, leaving a pouting teenager behind. Viktor sighed dramatically to himself and flopped down on the king-sized bed, sinking into the silky, midnight blue fabric of the bedspread. The mattress shifted under him, and suddenly, there was a bunch of hazel fur in his face, a tongue eagerly giving him loving, wet, slobbery kisses.

“Makkachin!” Viktor mock-scolded through his laughter, sitting up to hug his darling poodle to his chest, generously scratching her back, “ _Masya_ , how am I going to survive Hogwarts without you?” he lamented, burying his face in her hazel fluff, “It’s _unfair_ that dogs aren’t allowed as castle companions…” he leaned back a little to look at her puffy cheeks, black button eyes blinking at him, “But, you’re going to stay here and take care of mama and papa, okay? You’ll keep them safe, _da_ , _lapochka?_ ”

“Vitya?”

Viktor’s head snapped up at the sound of the soft, gentle voice coming from the doorway, his aquamarines meeting with a pair of warm, forest green ones. An almost identical set of long, silver, arrow-straight hair adorned the tall man’s head, a humble smile stretched on his lips over statue-sculpted, marble features.

Not only was Ilia Nikiforov a sight to behold, but he had a skill with magic to match. With several books in his bibliography and unrivaled knowledge when it came to “the greatest power of all”, it was no wonder he was considered one of the strongest sorcerers in Russia and the world.

(It had taken the ever so hopeless romantic Viktor Ilianovich Nikiforov an embarrassingly long time to figure out that his father was an expert on the magic of love. He would never admit it took eleven years to figure it out; just in time for his first year at Koldovstoretz. Merlin would probably never forgive him.)

Ilia smiled kindly, gesturing towards Viktor’s trunk, “Are you finished, _solnyshko_?”

“ _Da_.” Viktor replied, getting up from the bed, Makkachin jumping down to pad over to Ilia, tail wagging as she greeted him with generous kisses to his hands. Ilia chuckled, scratching her behind the ear.

“Stay close to Vitya, _da_ , Makkachin?” he asked her, eliciting an agreeing “boof!” from the poodle who immediately trotted back to her owner as told, “Mama’s waiting, let’s go.” Viktor followed his father out of the room with only a nod as confirmation that he had understood.

Walking behind Ilia towards the living room, Viktor suddenly became highly aware of the slight rustle of the fabric of his deep blue robes clinging to his form, and of the sound of his footsteps against the cedar wood floor in contrast to the absence of noise altogether in front of him. The silky material of his father’s emerald robes flowed gracefully around him as he moved, not making a sound, and his feet might as well have been hovering right above the ground and not actually stepping on it.

Viktor once again made a mental promise to one day be just as graceful as his father.

…and as headstrong as his mother.

“There you are.”

A pair of identical aquamarines examined Viktor from head to toe critically, like he was about to walk down the aisle and not sit down by the dining table in their own home (not that they were going to have dinner around it just yet). With eyes as sharp as a hawk’s that narrowed at the sight of anything that was even barely out of place, Ludmila Nikiforova soon located a single strand of Makkachin’s fur on Viktor’s shoulder, plucking it away before (needlessly) straightening his already arrow-straight robes.

“Perfect.” She finally deemed him, a pleased smile settling on perfectly pink lips.

Ludmila Nikiforova had a posture to die for, always carrying herself with a confidence and a sense of undisputed dignity that was crucial, if not vital, for a person of her caliber. After all, she had worked hard to get where she was, which was Adviser to the Russian Minister for Magic (an old lady by the name Elizaveta Aristova that really needed to retire soon).

Today, her emerald robes matched those of her husbands, and Viktor could have sworn she had bought the set for them to just look casually perfect together. Her golden locks were carefully arranged in a tight braid that reached her lower back, not a strand out of place.

Elegant, sophisticated, absolutely impeccable. And most of the time, also ostentatious. Viktor only had to glance up at the enormous chandelier in gold and crystals above the magically heightened ceiling to remind himself of that.

Ludmila’s often tight facial expression had already softened for Viktor, and it melted further as her husband brought her diamond-adorned golden wedding band to his lips to place a soft kiss to her right ring finger. She gave up a light sigh.

“I asked Minister Shacklebolt to send the best they have.” She told the two of them and Yakov, who had joined them in the spacious living room. “Mr. Robards assured me in his letter that he had a person more than capable for the task.”  She offered them a small smile, a hopeful glimmer flickering briefly in her eyes. “And I might have a hunch as to who he meant.”

Truthfully, so did Viktor.

It was another “boof!” from Makkachin that alerted them to the green, distinct floo powder flames that suddenly sparked in the enormous fireplace, and out of them stepped a middle-aged man dressed in the telltale midnight blue robes with a silver A on the chest. His maroon hair was streaked with grey, and his face bore quite a few striking, unforgiving scars from battles.

The auror got rid of the scattered ashes and the dust from his clothes with a quick flick of his wand before walking up to Viktor’s mother.

“Mrs. Nikiforova, I presume.” He spoke, straight to the point, holding out his hand. “Gawain Robards, Head of the Auror Office.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Robards.” Ludmila replied in her own all business-tone she always used in formal and serious situations, firmly shaking the offered hand. “I’m sorry for the trouble we have caused.”

Mr. Robards shook his head, “You made the right decision, madam; there’s no need for apologies.” He told her firmly. “You were brave to travel all the way here and ask for aid.”

“My husband got us here safely.” She replied, gesturing towards the person in question. “Ilia kept us safe and hidden.”

“Of course,” the auror acknowledged, shaking Ilia’s hand in turn, “Mr. Ilia Nikiforov, one of the greatest sorcerers of our time. Your work is commendable, sir.”

“Thank you for your help.” Viktor’s father replied, ever so humble in everything he did, a soft smile on his lips that no doubt would be able to convince the entire world no one would have anything to worry about for the rest of their lives. Or so Viktor thought.

Speaking of which…

“And you must be young Viktor.” Mr. Robards spoke, sharp, dark grey eyes settling on the last family member as he held out his hand once again. “I do hope you’ll enjoy your stay at Hogwarts despite the circumstances, Mr. Nikiforov.”

Viktor put on his best (fake) bright smile as he shook hands with the auror.

“I have no doubt I will, sir.” He replied, attempting to sound convincing and not believing it in the slightest.

If Mr. Robards noticed the lies told directly to his face, he didn’t show it. Instead, he walked over to Yakov to greet him in turn, wishing the old man good luck at his new workplace over a few other exchanged pleasantries.

“My colleague will be here shortly.” The auror informed them, pulling out his pocket watch to have a look at the time. “He worked through the night and I sent him home in the early morning to get some well-deserved rest. We need him sharp; I hope you understand.”

“Of course.” Ludmila was quick to assure him. “Then, refreshments, Mr. Robards? Tea? We have some lemonade prepared.”

The Head of the Auror Office paused, thinking. Then, he shrugged.

“Perhaps a glass of water for now, please.” He finally replied.

Ilia was quick to pull an elegant crystal glass out of thin air and fill it up with cool water and glimmering ice cubes shaped like snowflakes that he kindly offered to the auror, who gulped it all down in record time. Viktor’s father refilled the glass instantly.

At the same time, another flash of green flames and one more “boof!” from Makkachin directed everyone’s attention back to the fireplace as a second figure stepped out and dusted himself off with his wand. He was about the same height as Viktor, if not a little shorter, with jet-black hair and a pair of round glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

The most notable and recognizable feature, however, was the lightning-shaped, Avada Kedavra-scar on his forehead that his unruly dark locks didn’t quite manage to cover.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Mr. Robards.” He apologized before he even had managed to catch his breath properly.

“You’re a minute early, Mr. Potter.” The older auror informed him, cont. “Right on time.”

“Oh, good.” The younger wizard sighed, a relieved smile settling on his lips as he shook hands with Viktor’s parents. “Harry Potter, pleased to meet you, Mrs. Nikiforova, Mr. Nikiforov.”

“The pleasure certainly is all ours, Mr. Potter.” Ludmila replied kindly, much to her credit. Viktor had been half-expecting the more mama-like “I know who you are, darling”, but perhaps she was much too overwhelmed by the presence of The Boy Who Lived that the words didn’t find their way to her tongue.

Who could blame her. She was talking to the man who defeated _Lord Freaking Voldemort_ at the age of seventeen.

…what had Viktor done with his life again?

…annoyed Yakov. Mostly. Probably.

With Mr. The Chosen One present, Ludmila led them all to the dining area to get seated by the heavy, oaken table, and Ilia summoned more glasses and a couple of cans of chilled lemonade that came floating in from the kitchen. Viktor watched as one of the cans tipped bright yellow liquid into his glass, waiting until it finished filling it up before reaching for it and taking a good sip of the fresh drink. Makkachin settled down by his chair, lying down on the floor, head resting on Viktor’s foot.

A comforting weight for the conversation ahead.

“So,” Mr. Potter spoke up, reading through a file that Mr. Robards had provided him with mere minutes ago, “you have a dark wizard on your heels, Mrs. Nikiforova?”

“One or more.” Ludmila corrected him. “We have no idea if they are acting alone or not.”

The younger auror nodded, “And they call themselves…” he furrowed his brows, underlining the word on the parchment with his self-refilling quill, “…Inferno.” He looked up at Viktor’s mother again. “Do you have reason to believe them to be more than one person, ma’am?”

“Not directly.” She shook her head. “But knowing how the underground wizarding… community works in Russia, it very well might be. There is, unfortunately, no knowing for sure.”

Mr. Potter hummed slightly, noting something in the margin. Viktor found himself wondering where he could get hold of a self-refilling quill that didn’t look like the bird it came from had hit a window and fallen into a pit of tar.

A peacock’s feather would do nicely, for example.

“Inferno…” Mr. Potter furrowed his brows, tapping his finger on the table as he searched his brain, “…I can’t recall ever having heard that name within the auror community before…”

“Exactly, Mr. Potter.” His boss spoke up, tone laced with bitterness. “We know literally nothing about anyone under that cover-name, and it will be your job, primarily, to find out more. Everything you possibly can that would lead us to the location and identity of Inferno, as well as their possible motives for targeting the Nikiforov family.

“Also,” he continued, refilling his once again empty glass, “I need you to choose a partner for this task, Mr. Potter. You will not only find out anything and everything about Inferno that you possibly can, but you will also be tasked with ensuring the safety of the Nikiforov family during their stay within the borders of Great Britain.” He paused briefly. “Young Mr. Viktor will, however, be in perfectly good hands at Hogwarts.”

Mr. Potter nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his lemonade, “I would preferably work together with Neville Longbottom, sir.” Then, he furrowed his brows, seemingly thinking hard. “I would also ask for permission to send Mrs. Shubina of the International Auror Association a letter; she could provide assistance with the language, and she understands the Russian wizarding community. We need to start somewhere, after all.”

Mr. Robards turned to Ludmila, “Do we have permission to ask Mrs. Olga Shubina for aid in this manner?”

“I was in the same school year as her older sister.” Viktor’s mother replied with a nod. “Permission granted.” The business-tone never faltered.

“Thank you.” Mr. Potter gave a small smile, pulling out the third piece of parchment in the file to place it in front of him, looking thoughtful. “Madam, sir; I see that you have given detailed descriptions of all the incidents, mainly threatening messages, involving Inferno, but I would still like to ask a few more questions, if you’re not opposed to it.” Ludmila gestured for him to go ahead. “Good. Please, describe the nature of the curse that had been placed over your home,” he nodded to Ilia, “the one that Mr. Nikiforov heaved.”

Viktor’s dad hummed, taking a slow sip of his lemonade before he began speaking:

“Well, fortunately for us, all magic leaves traces, but this curse in particular was very well disguised…”

Viktor tuned his father out in favor of staring out the window, at that apartment building across the street with the statue carved into the façade. For once, though, he wasn’t paying it any further attention.

It had started with the letters, he knew. While he was still safe within the walls of Koldovstoretz. At first, it had seemed like any other hate mail, and since his mother got her fair share of that, being in the position she was, she had paid the messages no further attention. They had been delivered partially to her office and partially to their doorstep, and she never as much as spared them more than a quick glance.

That was until one day, when the family owl, Sofiya, had to let go off one letter in her claws to be able to breach the barrier that Ilia kept around the Nikiforov mansion at all times. He had taken it to the Auror Office, as his wife had already gone to work when it arrived with the morning mail, and they had found a life-draining curse placed on the letter, neatly signed _Inferno_ in dark, red ink that did look uncomfortably close to blood.

More precautions were taken, aurors were hired to keep close by to Viktor’s mother at work and whenever she had to go someplace else for the sake of it, and Ilia strengthened the spells around the family home. The scariest part was the last one.

Ilia Nikiforov, one of the greatest sorcerers of the modern era. His whole life dedicated to understanding magic in so great detail that he could bend it to his will by a flick of his wand.

And someone had managed to seep a curse into them.

Viktor had heard the story many times, of course, and in great detail. His father had had to give his version of it at least ten times to countless authorities they had been forced to go through in order to be granted permission to leave the country the way they had. It would probably have been more complicated than that if Ludmila Nikiforova wasn’t more or less confirmed to become the following Minister for Magic in Russia.

It had been during Viktor’s last week at Koldovstoretz for the semester when the event had taken place. Ilia had dropped by the Ministry after having spent the day in the library to accompany his wife home; the usual. What was unusual about it was that when they apparated home, expecting to land in the living room as always, they landed outside the main gate instead.

Ilia’s magic had saved their lives, preventing them from landing directly inside the trap Inferno had attempted to set for them.

Viktor’s father had used a strong Revelio-charm on the mansion, exposing a curse he had never encountered before in his life. While Ludmila quickly headed back to the Ministry to get the aurors, Ilia had put his extensive knowledge of magic to use and traced the curse within his own spells, intent on heaving it.

It took him almost a day and a night, and a lot of help from some of the strongest aurors the country had to offer, but finally, the curse had given way.

“I’m not sure exactly what would have happened if we had landed in the living room like usual.” He told the two British aurors. “The curse was… scorching, like a blazing, invisible Fiendfyre, but at the same time, it felt…” he furrowed his brows, looking for the English word, “…lifeless.”

“Sounds like something that would have led to a painful death.” Mr. Potter murmured worriedly, looking down at his notes. “We’re dealing with a wizard or a witch with an extensive knowledge in dark magic… or several of them.” He looked up at Viktor’s parents again. “I take it Headmistress McGonagall knows about the situation to some extent?”

“Of course.” Ludmila nodded. “That’s why she hired Yakov… well, for this, but also because the former Potions Master really wished to retire, apparently.” A small, wry smile stretched onto her lips. “And as a bonus, he has to share a workplace with his ex-wife again.”

Yakov huffed lightly, almost chuckled, “I beg to remind you that Lilia and I are on speaking terms, Ludmila.”

“Ah,” Mr. Potter turned to the old man in understanding, “you’re Madame Baranovskaya’s ex-husband, Mr. Feltsman?”

Yakov replied with a grunt, and Viktor suppressed the grin that threatened to spread on his lips. Lilia Baranovskaya had packed her bags and moved the moment she found out that there was a vacant spot as Astronomy professor at Hogwarts after the end of the Second Wizarding War. Half a year prior to that, she and Yakov had divorced, and even though they weren’t on bad terms with each other (not really), the air between them had been more tense than usual when it was clear she was going to leave.

“She was the first teacher to transfer from another wizarding school after the war,” Mr. Potter reminisced thoughtfully, “and several teachers and even more students followed suit. It became quite a trend, didn’t it? Sending children to other schools than the one they were originally intended to attend, looking more at the curriculum than at the geographical location.”

“According to Headmistress McGonagall, it has worked surprisingly well.” Yakov spoke up. “Hogwarts has apparently had a surge of students from elsewhere in the world, particularly from Asian countries like India and Japan. Both first years and transfers.” He nodded in Viktor’s direction. “Vitya should easily blend in as only one among several.”

“Luckily so.” Ilia agreed softly. “I’ve also understood there are Russian students at Hogwarts already, anyway?”

Yakov hummed in confirmation, “ _Da_ , there are a few. Only two of them, however, have ever attended Koldovstoretz; there are two more that were placed at Hogwarts the year they turned eleven.”

Viktor couldn’t help his curiosity.

“Who transferred?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, “I can’t remember anyone transferring.”k

“You wouldn’t have _noticed_ if anyone had transferred or not, Vitya.” Yakov replied in his usual sharp tongue, but continued anyway: “And you wouldn’t remember the transfer anyway, because they only attended Koldovstoretz a year before they did, and they’re a year ahead of you. Georgi Popovich and Anya Makarova.” The corner of his mouth twitched slightly. “Both were students of Lilia’s before she moved. What a coincidence that they would choose Hogwarts of all places.”

Viktor grinned at him, and he could have sworn the old man gave the smallest of winks in return.

The conversation shifted back to more practical matters (like the fact that Ludmila asked for an auror or two to keep an eye on Viktor and Ilia when they would need to visit the King’s Cross station the following day), and Viktor’s gaze shifted back to the window. An old woman on the second floor of the statue-façade-building across the road was in the midst of closing her window.

It had started raining. Again. Rain seemed to be the default weather in Britain.

Outwardly, he kept a calm look on his face and an occasional (fake) smile. Inwardly, his head was in conflict with itself.

The thing was, Viktor was always excited about new things. He had a real talent for being amazed about absolutely everything, and a place like Hogwarts sounded like the stuff dreams were made of. He had spent the week in London reading _Hogwarts: A History_ from start to finish in an attempt to find out as much as possible about his new school, and he couldn’t wait to explore the wondrous castle described within the pages, all from the magical ceiling in the Great Hall to the wherever the moving staircases would take him. All the towers at least, he had decided.

So no, he wasn’t nervous about the transfer. Not really. At the end of the day, he was _mostly_ excited.

But…

…perhaps it was the nature of all the events that had brought him and his parents and Yakov to London that quelled the usual, bubbly eagerness too much for comfort. Perhaps it was the knowledge that someone who wanted to cause them harm was on their heels. Perhaps it was both. All in all, it was seemingly intent on extinguishing the flame of excitement that desperately wanted to burn within him.

_But…_

…still, when he climbed into bed later in the evening, when the aurors had left and Yakov had said his goodbyes to head to Hogwarts, Viktor felt a tingle in his chest, fluttering down into his stomach. He smiled into Makkachin’s fur, hugging her close.

Perhaps, despite everything, he could still be excited for a new adventure.

 

Little did he know that many, many miles away, another Hogwarts student hugged his own poodle to his chest as well, smiling into the caramel fur as he thought about the upcoming year.

Something was going to be different, he thought. Something was going to change.

The smile on his lips persisted as he finally gave in to sleep.

Another school year, another adventure.


	2. Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The arrival at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry gives Viktor much to reflect over, both good and less good (he's an optimist, after all). It really isn't helped by the presence of a raven-haired student that apparently can make Viktor's world come to a standstill with a single glance.
> 
> Train rides, thoughts, and the start-of-term banquet... it's a lot, but maybe not too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *braces self for all the "why did you put them in those houses, you idiot"-comments* I have reasons!

The landscape outside the window turned more and more rural the further up north the train headed, and then it changed to vast areas of unspoiled uplands, mountain ranges and rolling hills as far as the eye could see. It was late in the afternoon when the Scottish Highlands took over completely, surrounding the bright red Hogwarts Express on its mission to deliver the students safely to the castle for yet another year of education at the (probably) most prestigious magic school in the world.

Viktor rested his chin in his open palm, elbow comfortably propped up on the armrest, silently admiring the lush greenery that seemed to stretch out to infinity. He had already gotten dressed in the proper, black school robes he was supposed to wear, silver hair pulled back in a tight ponytail with every strand exactly where it should be, and the tie around his neck was still black, which it would remain until he had been sorted into either Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin.

Having said goodbye to his mother and absolutely not cried into Makkachin’s fur when hugging her farewell (he totally did), Ilia had escorted Viktor to the King’s Cross station and helped him locate Platform 9 ¾, while covering his distinct silver locks with a hood and having his son do the same. Also, Viktor had learnt that both Harry Potter and his fellow auror, Neville Longbottom, were keeping an extra eye on them and their surroundings, which had made him feel a little less tense.

He didn’t even notice he currently had sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth, worrying it slightly.

There was no denying he was nervous about transferring to Hogwarts. Excited, yes, but nervous. While the anticipation of getting to explore the ancient castle made his skin tingle pleasantly, the thought of somehow trying to fit right in with people who had known each other for years made his stomach churn uncomfortably.

He had never been good at making friends. Friendly acquaintances, yes; most of the student body at Koldovstoretz fell into that category, but Viktor couldn’t really name a single one he actually considered a friend. Actually, maybe Ruslan. They still wrote letters and all at times.

Okay, Ruslan had probably been, and probably was, a friend. And that was the end of that.

Then again, being the stubborn optimist he was, Viktor decided that there was at least one undeniable upside to it all, and that was the geographical location. Koldovstoretz was located in a valley in the unforgiving wilderness among the Siberian mountains, and claiming that he was more than happy to trade that for the much milder (and much damper) climate of Scotland was an understatement. When he had mentioned it to Yakov, the old man had told him that many Brits considered the Highlands to be cold during winter.

Viktor scoffed inwardly at the thought.

They knew _nothing_ of cold. Just thinking about the harsh tundra north of the Siberian mountains still sent chills up his spine.

He sighed slightly, shifting in his seat, leaning against the backrest.

The threat looming over his family was a persistently gnawing worry in the back of his head, but he had resolved himself to try and let it stay there (in the back of his head) and enjoy the adventure ahead anyway, like his parents had wished he would. They had really made an effort to make the transfer feel more like an actual, thought-out and planned one, and not something that simply _had_ to happen.

Hence, Viktor had determinedly set out to devour all information about his new school he could get his hands on, including reading the intimidatingly thick _Hogwarts: A History_.

And really, he had heard a multitude of good things about the magnificence that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; a gem among magic schools that ever since the Second Wizarding War had been held in the firm hands of acclaimed Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, one of the most prominent transfiguration experts in the modern era.

In all honesty, he could barely wait to get there, to experience the castle that even had developed some kind of sentience during the it’s thousand or so years of existence. And now, finally aboard the Hogwarts Express, mere hours away from the actual place…

A smile stretched across Viktor’s lips, azure eyes looking back at him in the reflection in the window, the lines becoming sharper as evening approached.

…yes, he was excited. More than anything else.

Inferno be damned.

 

Viktor exited the train as soon as it pulled up on the platform, leaving his luggage in the compartment as instructed. A horde of other students did the same, dark cloaks keeping the chill of the evening air away as they started moving towards… somewhere.

Somewhere Viktor apparently wasn’t going just yet.

“First years an’ transfers!”

Viktor whirled around to find an enormous man with an enormous beard and a forest of hair atop his head walking along the platform, towering above everyone else, being closer in height to the train than the students. The little Viktor could make out of his features was due to the light coming from the lantern in his hand, which seemed to be the size of a smaller doghouse.

“First years and transfers this way, please!” the man repeated cheerfully in a loud, booming voice as a bunch of gnome-, er, _first years_ made their way over to him. Viktor did the same, grateful that he wasn’t feeling as tall as he thought he would have, thanks to the obvious half-giant’s size.

The enormous man introduced himself as “Perfessor Hagrid”, and Viktor vaguely remembered reading his name a time or five among the many articles about the Second Wizarding War that had reached the Russian wizarding media. Apparently, he would be escorting them to the castle this once as a kind of rite of passage. Viktor vaguely remembered it to include boats (thanks again, _Hogwarts: A History_ ).

On another note, he was also relieved to notice that he wasn’t the only transfer student; there were also a couple of girls. One looked like she could be of Japanese heritage, with mahogany hair cut straight off by her shoulders and dark eyes Viktor couldn’t make out the color of, and the other could have been Indian, with deep, olive skin and thick, dark hair pulled into an impressive braid. The latter was sneaking curious glances at Viktor, while the former seemed to be completely uninterested about absolutely everything.

Hagrid led them to the shore of a mirror-blank lake and instructed them to board the, indeed, several small boats to be brought over to the other side. Viktor climbed into a boat with the (possibly) Indian girl and a couple of first years, one of who turned to the two seniors and asked where they were transferring from, eyes sparkling with curiosity. While the girl politely told the scrawny eleven-year-old boy that she couldn’t reveal either the name or whereabouts of her former school, other than that it was located in the Far east, Viktor was more than ready to tell them he was from Koldovstoretz in Russia.

The light conversation ended when the castle came into view.

Silence fell over the lake as Hogwarts towered up in front of them. And literally _towered_. Towers and more towers stretched up towards the already starlit sky, and Viktor could only marvel at the sight of the castle silhouette against the dark backdrop.

Koldovstoretz was a magnificent castle, Viktor thought, with its white exterior and golden cupolas, ostentatious in a way that could only be expected from wealthy wizards and witches that took the word “extravagant” and managed to go over the top of it, anyway. Hogwarts, on the other hand, was a magnificent sight to behold in a different way. He couldn’t point his finger on what it was, exactly. Maybe it was the simple exterior that still looked intriguing to the point that he couldn’t look away from it. Maybe.

That was a mystery to be solved another day, however, as they reached the shore on the other side and followed Hagrid up a set of stairs, at the end of which was a large, sturdy, oaken door. The half-giant knocked on it thrice, and then waited.

And soon enough, the door opened to reveal a face Viktor hadn’t seen for years.

Lilia Baranovskaya was standing just as tall and stern as ever in the doorway, her pitch-black hair (that seemed like it was never going to give in to the test of time and start greying) pulled up in tight bun. Sharp, lime green eyes assessed every one of them, an ever so slight flicker of recognition flashing in them as they landed on Viktor for a brief moment. Her lean frame and impeccably straight posture was accentuated by the dark purple dress she was wearing, and her high cheekbones were more prominent than usual in the backlight filtering through the doorway from the inside.

“The first years, Perfesser Baranovskaya.” Hagrid smiled, nodding politely.

“Thank you, Professor Hagrid.” Lilia replied in her no-nonsense tone, and suddenly, Viktor felt as if he had heard it only yesterday, even though years had passed. “I’ll take it from here.” She looked at the students again. “Follow me.”

In true prima ballerina fashion, Lilia turned sharply on her heel and headed back inside. Viktor and the two other transfers waited for the first years to go in before following them, and in doing so, he noticed that Hagrid in turn stepped inside and closed the door behind them before heading over to a door on the right and disappearing through it.

With everyone gathered inside, Lilia turned to them again, and just as Viktor remembered, she wasted no time and went straight to the point:

“Welcome to Hogwarts.” She spoke, clearly and swiftly. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, and there, you will be sorted into one of the four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin. Each house, of course, has its own noble history, and each has produced exceptional witches and wizards over the years.” She assessed them closely one by one while she spoke, as if she was about to do the sorting herself.

“The Sorting is a ceremony of uttermost importance, because during your time here, your house will be your Hogwarts’ family. You will have classes with your housemates, you will share a dormitory with them, and spend time together in your house’s common room. Now, the rules are simple,” her eyes narrowed slightly, “your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points, and at the end of the school year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup; a token of honor. I expect each of you to be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.”

Her eyes landed on a pair of boys that were quietly snickering to each other, and Viktor felt a surge of homeliness at the realization that he _knew_ what was about to come. He had to fight against the grin threatening to stretch out onto his lips.

As expected, the snickering came to an abrupt halt as Lilia took a good hold on their shoulders and pulled, causing them to yelp in sync.

“Straighten up; flobberowrms have better postures than you.” She snapped, voice like a whiplash, demanding (and unfailingly earning) respect. Then, she produced her wand and pulled a simple handkerchief out of thin air, handing it to another kid who had been grinning at the display. When he looked at it confusedly, Lilia elaborated:

“Wipe that grimace off your face, you would need to down a bottle of Skele-Gro to save yours.”

Viktor really struggled not to laugh out loud at the stricken faces around him. If only they knew she was being uncharacteristically _kind_.

They had no idea what was awaiting them in the Astronomy Tower.

As an added bonus for Viktor, there was something about Lilia establishing her authority that made the whole situation suddenly feel more tangible and real to him. It reminded him of home, of Russia, and all the hours of sore limbs and screaming muscles when the ballerina had pushed his body to its limits and beyond in an attempt to teach him dance and discipline simultaneously. He hadn’t had her as his teacher since she left seven years ago, though. When she left, his parents had hired Madame Sharova instead.

It was only then that Viktor had realized he actually _missed_ Lilia, and for the weirdest reason possible: Madame Sharova was too _nice_.

Sure, he had appreciated it in the beginning, but it wasn’t what he needed. He found himself missing the feeling of going to bed after a long day at the studio to practically melt into the sheets, and he even missed the aching legs that made him wince when walking down the stairs the morning following a practice session.

Hence, he had taken up Quidditch before he even started attending Koldovstoretz to have something else to distract him with, and his parents had talked Yakov into teaching Viktor to skate. The old man had since become more or less his mentor, and that was what they called him. And with Yakov to keep Viktor in check, there had been no worries about the fact that Madame Sharova tended to go soft on him; the old man would push him above and beyond his limits every time to make up for it.

Viktor frowned slightly. Coming to think of it… did Lilia still give ballet lessons? Dancing lessons in general? At Hogwarts?

He made a mental note to sign up if she happened to do so.

The prima ballerina-turned-professor in question currently produced a pocket watch and glanced at it briefly.

“It’s time.” She stated, giving them a nod. “Now, form a line and follow me.”

The slightly shaken first years were quick to obey, forming a queue as straight as possible behind her, with the two transfer girls and Viktor taking up the rear. Despite their momentarily stunned state, whispers could be heard throughout the line the closer to the massive double doors they were headed towards.

When the doors opened, the whispers were replaced with gasps and breathless ‘oh’s and ‘ah’s and ‘wow’s.

Viktor did none of those things, even though his eyes grew wide and his jaw slackened in awe. He couldn’t help but marvel at the sight.

His gaze was immediately drawn to the magical ceiling he had read about in _Hogwarts: A History_ , currently displaying a brilliantly beautiful night sky, stars glimmering mesmerizingly against the dark satin backdrop. A little further down, thousands of candles where hovering above the four, long tables, bathing the Great Hall (another piece of information Viktor had picked up from the extensive book) in warm, golden light.

The initial amazement, however, was quickly quelled when the first years and the transfers lined up with their backs facing the Staff Table, the entire student body in front of them, and there and then, Viktor suddenly felt like a pixie among fairies; conspicuous and somewhat out of place. The first years looked like a pack of dwarfs in contrast to him, and neither of the transfer girls were really that tall, either. His pale skin and silvery hair really didn’t help the situation in the slightest.

With nervousness settling heavy and unpleasant in the pit of his stomach, Viktor willed himself to direct his attention to something else as a distraction. He ended up looking at the banners hanging on the walls behind each of the four house tables, noting which table belonged to what house.

There was Gryffindor to the far right, the unmistakable, scarlet banner with a golden lion hanging proud across the stone walls, and beside it was Hufflepuff in yellow and black with a badger in the center. Ravenclaw followed, second to the left, with a sapphire blue banner adorned by a majestic bronze eagle spreading its wings across the fabric, and last but not least, there was Slytherin to the far left, an emerald green banner with a slithering silver snake in the shape of an S woven onto it.

Lil-, uh, _Professor Baranovskaya_ placed a stool and an old hat in front of the new students, then stepped to the side to wait, holding a large scroll in her hands. Despite the overwhelming urge to squirm at every glance in his direction, Viktor stood perfectly still as he also shifted his gaze to the ragged old headwear, unconsciously holding his breath.

And then, the hat began to sing. A song about the four houses, their founders and their history, and it soon made Viktor forget all about the curious eyes around him as he eagerly tried to listen to and absorb every word (thank Merlin for Yakov having insisted he learn English when he was nine, otherwise the upcoming year would be a real feat). The hat sang about the chivalric Godric Gryffindor and his unrivaled bravery, about the kindhearted Helga Hufflepuff who welcomed everyone with open arms, about the beautiful Rowena Ravenclaw with her stunning intellect, and about the cunning Salazar Slytherin and his unrelenting determination…

It took Viktor a second or two to realize the song was over before the Great Hall started applauding the hat and Professor Baranovskaya rolled out the scroll of parchment, simply shooting a bitter look at the students seated along the four house tables to immediately silence the noise. Having accomplished that, she turned to the newcomers.

“If I call your name, please step forward.” She glanced at the parchment. “Alexander, Christian!”

A slim boy with sand-blond hair stepped forth on shaking legs, looking like he was trying not to show the nausea pooling in his gut as he walked over to the stool, lifted the hat and sat down, placing it over his head (it did fall down over his ears).

A few moments of silence passed as the Great Hall waited with bated breath. Viktor found himself swallowing an uncomfortable lump in his throat.

But then…

“ _Gryffindor!_ ”

The table to the far right erupted in cheers as the boy stood up and took the hat off, looking relieved beyond belief as he headed over to join his fellow housemates, immediately welcomed with handshake and pats on the back. The display suddenly sent a surge of dread like a lightning bolt through Viktor, and his intestines shrunk like they had been wrapped in mokeskin and turned to lead.

It was easy for the first years to jump right in and sit down together with their future dorm- and housemates at the end of the table, but what was _he_ supposed to do? Was he supposed to sit down with them, people five or six years his juniors? Should he try to locate the other sixth years?

His heart sunk like a rock.

 _How_ was he supposed to do _that?_

Similar question kept peppering the back of his mind as the first years got sorted one after another. Professor Baranovskaya reached the letter N (Viktor’s stomach churned), but there was no “Nikiforov, Viktor” before she swiftly continued with “Noda, Takashi” (who got placed in Ravenclaw).

Right.

Viktor and the other transfers would be sorted last.

He felt his cheeks heat up a little at the realization, praying the blush wasn’t too visible… but no, really, who was he fooling; he might as well have been on fire with his snow-white features serving as the perfect canvas. Viktor willed his heart to stay inside his ribcage and his breathing to keep steady.

In and out. He could do it.

He _had_ to.

And when “Zeller, Vina” finally had been placed in Gryffindor…

“Transfers.” Professor Baranovskaya announced, looking at her list. “Nikiforov, Viktor; sixth year.”

…well, at least, he wouldn’t be the last person standing alone in front of everyone.

The mokeskin knot in Viktor’s stomach was constricting itself more and more with each passing second, his legs feeling embarrassingly unsteady as he walked over to the stool. He mentally scolded himself, willing his posture to keep straight and holding his head high as he sat down and placed the worn-out hat on his head.

It was a little too big for him, too, but not as bad as for the eleven-year-olds.

“Hmm…” a soft voice hummed inside his head, and to his own amazement and relief, Viktor managed to neither jump nor yelp in surprise, “…kind at heart, an eager mind, loyal… not as carefree as you’d like to be. A façade, hm?” Viktor’s cheeks involuntarily tinged pink at that, “Excited, though, I can tell. You would do well in Gryffindor, sure you would… but I’m certain you’ll do your absolute best in _Ravenclaw!_ ”

The hat shouted the last part for the entire Great Hall to hear, and even though his ears were ringing, Viktor clearly heard the cheers following the hat’s announcement. He removed the ragged headwear and headed over to the second table on the left, heart still pounding hard against his ribcage.

Now… where was he supposed to go?

Thankfully, it seemed like Merlin had blessed him.

Because, as though having read his mind, a boy with blond, curly hair and a darker undercut waved at him from the middle of the table, pointing to empty seat next to him with a bright, encouraging smile. While a smile of relief settled on his lips, Viktor felt his throat tighten as he fought back the salt of gratitude stinging the back of his eyes, never wishing to admit how nervous he had been about, in hindsight, such a trivial thing to begin with.

He quickly headed over to the boy, but barely had time to tell him “thank you” and sit down before Professor Baranovskaya swiftly continued with “Sibazaki, Reiko; fifth year.”

The Japanese girl in question was placed in Slytherin, also immediately welcomed by her new classmates, and only then did it occur to Viktor that there had been so many transfer students over the past seven years that everyone had simply gotten used to welcoming the newcomers among them so they wouldn’t have to worry about… well, all the things he had been (needlessly) worrying about.

The realization made him feel like he had been sorted in the wrong house entirely. Then again, the boy next to him seemed very friendly, so he wasn’t about to complain about it just yet.

Lastly, “Satinder, Singh, sixth year” was sorted into Hufflepuff. Professor Baranovskaya rolled up the scroll and flicked her wand, hat and stool moving to the side while she walked around the Staff Table to her place on the right-hand side of the Headmistress, who stood up as she sat down.

The hall immediately fell silent. No explanation was needed. She hadn’t even spoken yet, but Viktor already found that he admired her.

Minerva McGonagall radiated a welcoming warmth laced with a sturdy, secure strength, like she was the pillar and the hearth of the castle simultaneously. With the greying hair that was pulled up in a knot that rivaled Lilia’s in tightness and the sharp eyes peering at them through a set of delicate glasses, she managed to somehow give the impression that she was the (stern and just) grandmother of every single student in the room.

And if Viktor squinted, he could swear there was a teeny tiny smile on her thin lips.

“Welcome, students,” she spoke, voice all too steady and firm, “to a new year at Hogwarts.”

The Great Hall filled with cheers and applauses, the entire student body showing their appreciation. Someone by the Gryffindor table was bold enough to wolf-whistle. Professor McGonagall didn’t seem fazed in the slightest, holding up her hand to silence them all easily once again. Lilia probably got along with her pretty well, Viktor figured.

“Before we begin our feast,” the Headmistress continued, “I would like to properly welcome all our old students back, and all our new students to make yourselves at home here at Hogwarts, like so many have done before you.” She paused briefly, gazing over the tables to look at the first years and, to Viktor’s surprise and amazement, at him and the two other transfers as well, all in turn. He could have sworn her head tilted ever so slightly as she momentarily made eye-contact with him.

Then, she continued, “And last but not least; in honor of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, I will convey a message he wished all future headmasters of Hogwarts to relay at least every four years,” she cleared her throat, “Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!” a sharp nod, “Let the feast begin.”

The hall practically exploded with cheers and laughter, rising above the sound of applauding hands. Viktor was among those who allowed the joyous, tingling sound escape their lips, unable to hold it back. Suddenly, something that smelled _divine_ reached his nostrils, and he turned his attention back to the table.

And gaped.

Never in his life had he seen so much heavenly food on one table at once, let alone on _four_ , and that alone was saying quite a lot, considering his background. It was only when Viktor’s brain reminded him that the nectar of the gods in front of him was edible that he realized how hungry he really was. Hence, he eagerly helped himself to whatever was closest, because while he could be a picky eater, there was absolutely no way he would dislike anything served at the start-of-term banquet.

Having filled his goblet with pumpkin juice, he remembered he still had to thank the boy sitting to his right more properly for the help.

Now, how to do that…

Viktor decided to simply turn towards him slightly and clear his throat, gaining the boy’s attention.

“Thank you for earlier.” He settled for telling him, a smile settling on his lips. The boy grinned back brightly.

“Not at all.” He replied, helping himself to some potatoes before turning to Viktor fully. “I figured you’d like to get to know people in the same year as you.” He held out his hand. “Christophe Giacometti, or, preferably, Chris.”

“Nice to meet you.” Viktor smiled, relieved to find it was actually genuine for once. “I’m Viktor… although you already knew that.”

To his utter relief and enormous joy, Chris turned out to be easy to both talk to and get along with, and he went on to introduce Viktor to their fellow classmates. Among the boys, apart from Chris and Viktor himself, there was Nathaniel Douglas, who apparently was insanely good at Exploding Snap and also a Prefect, and his best friend Sherwood Partington, a sturdy boy with chestnut hair that had been a Beater on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team since his second school year.

Having breached the subject of Quidditch, Viktor eagerly asked more about the house team, and Chris revealed that he had played as Chaser for the past three years. He took the opportunity to introduce Viktor to Sara Crispino, also a sixth year, and Captain of the Ravenclaw team. She greeted Viktor with a brilliant smile, filled with bubbling energy, throwing herself right across Chris’ lap to pull Viktor in for a spontaneous hug when he admitted he’d like to try out for the position as Seeker. Apparently, their long-time Seeker had graduated at the end of the previous school year.

Sara then took over Chris’ noble mission and introduced Viktor to her dormmates Loretta Cornhill, Ophelia Rushden, and Mizuho Yoshii. Loretta was in charge of a popular study circle that met up every Friday, while Ophelia was a Prefect, like Nathaniel, and somewhat of a model student. Mizuho shyly admitted to Viktor that she had transferred to Hogwarts from Mahoutokoro in time for her fourth year, and that she had gotten settled quickly, mostly due to people being friendly and the atmosphere was all welcome and open arms.

And as she apparently had decided that Viktor was going to become their next Seeker, Sara then went on to introduce him to the rest of the Ravenclaw Quidditch, team, or at least point them out, as there was no chance of talking to everyone along the long table. Viktor managed to reach over, barely, to shake hands with Louis Arnet, the other long-time Beater, a lean seventh year with amber hair and grey eyes. The wink that Chris sent in Louis’ direction did not go completely unnoticed, but he decided not to ask.

He didn’t have to.

“Look at that package.” Chris grinned, wiggling his eyebrows at him. “He’s _very_ distracting in Quidditch attire, I tell you.”

Viktor mirrored the grin, “You better tell me.”

The grin on Chris’ lips turned devious in response.

Finally, Sara resolved to simply point out Hilary Erskins, a fifth year that had attended try-outs the previous year and performed spectacularly (“she’s going to continue as a Chaser, unless there’s some hidden talent among the second years that I don’t know about”), and Seung-Gil Lee, a serious-looking seventh year and Keeper on the team. Apparently, he hadn’t given up the spot since he attended the try-outs in his second year, always outdoing his competition.

Viktor then deduced that Sara was the third Chaser. She beamed at him.

“Yup!” she confirmed, nodding eagerly, “I went to the try-outs in my second year and got chosen; I’ve been on the team since.” Then, her face lit up even further. “Oh, and my twin brother plays Beater on the Gryffindor team.”

 _Huh?_ Viktor blinked, “You and your twin brother got sorted into different houses?”

Sara shrugged, “It did come as a bit of a surprise back then, yeah, and Mickey was mad at first, he can be silly like that… looking back, though, I think the Sorting Hat knew exactly what it was doing.” She smiled, pointing over to the Gryffindor table. “That’s him, with the caramel hair talking t-“

Suddenly, she stopped mid-sentence, clasping her hand over her mouth to suppress a noise Viktor couldn’t quite make out. He wasn’t alone to notice.

“What is it?” Ophelia asked her, leaning over the table a little to better hear the reply.

“ _Him_.” Sara breathed, olive cheeks flushing. “He looked this way.”

“No way!” Loretta gaped, sneaking a glance over her shoulder, “Merlin, there he is…!”

Viktor, curious as could be, was about to ask who this male person was that got them all so worked up. But then, his gaze wandered over to the Gryffindor table in the direction the girls were looking, and immediately got the answer to the question he never asked.

He knew _exactly_ who they were talking about. No wonder the girls were swooning; Viktor could bet the entirety of his Gringotts account that guys were doing the same.

The boy in question was probably a seventh year, as he did look to be among the oldest students at the Gryffindor table, and clearly of Asian descent. Japanese, it seemed like. His raven hair was pushed back from his face, and he wore a pair of rectangular spectacles on the bridge of his nose, framing a perfectly sculpted face that was heart-meltingly soft around the edges, and in the candlelight, his eyes looked warm and dark, like melted dark chocolate. A Gryffindor-emblem was sewn onto the chest-area of his robes, and opposite of it glimmered not one, but two golden badges.

Viktor suddenly struggled not to audibly gulp, fighting down the heatwave that threatened to spread on his cheeks and turn his own, pale features into a bonfire.

In his sixteen years of living, he was certain, absolutely and completely, that he had never before seen anyone as… handsome? Breathtaking? Gorgeous? All of them.

“Who is he?” he heard his own, breathless voice ask Chris, curiosity catching up to him faster than coherent thoughts. Chris followed his gaze, and an all too amused grin spread on his lips. Not that Viktor registered that, as he was too busy staring at Mr. Gorgeous a couple of tables away.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Chris replied, nudging Viktor with his elbow to gain a little of his attention. “ _He_ is Yuuri Katsuki; transferred from Mahoutokoro four years ago. He’s a year our senior and ridiculously skilled in magic, Defense Against the Dark Arts in particular, I’ve heard. So, due to that and those _killer_ looks that he probably still doesn’t understand he even has, he attracts… attention, so to say. Not to mention that he also dances under the guidance of Professors Okukawa and Baranovskaya, and happens to be insanely good at that, too. Just as graceful on the dancefloor as on the Quidditch field; quite a catch.”

He nudged Viktor again, flashing him a knowing grin, “Head Boy, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, the fastest Chaser in the school. And yes,” he leaned in a little closer to theatrically whisper the last part in Viktor’s ear, “single.”

Viktor felt his jaw hit the table.

“What?” he asked, dumbfounded, glancing briefly at Chris and then back to the cause of the butterflies in his stomach, “How? How can…? Just _how?_ ”

Chris shrugged, tucking in on his pudding, “Just hasn’t found The One or something like that, I guess. He’s too kind and considerate to play around, I’d say… and can be quite oblivious. I once spotted a Hufflepuff girl blatantly flirting with him, asking about Quidditch, and he just gave her some advice, told her good luck and was on his way.” His grin suddenly turned devious. “Or maybe he just doesn’t swing _that_ way, you know? Speaking of which,” he leaned in again, purposely turning his back a little against Viktor so he “had” to bend backwards for the effect, “I happen to know he’s _very_ flexible.”

Viktor flushed the same scarlet color as the Gryffindor banner at the (not at all) unwelcome images in his head, and quickly attempted to cover his flaming cheeks by gulping down some pumpkin juice, desperately trying not to choke on the drink. He willed his breathing to even out before looking up again.

Time froze.

The world around him turned into a blur and ceased to exist.

And all it took for it to come to a standstill was the pair of warm, dark eyes locking gazes with Viktor’s azures.

Yuuri Katsuki was looking right at him. Not beside him, not behind him, but _at him_ , with a glint of… _something_ in his eyes that Viktor couldn’t quite place. And all he could do was stare back.

He couldn’t look away.

For what seemed like forever and just not enough, the Gryffindor steadily held his gaze in a firm grip. Slowly, a small, borderline smug smile stretched onto Yuuri Katsuki’s lips, making Viktor’s heart flutter like an eager fairy in his chest. Then, it suddenly jumped up straight to his throat, because he was unmistakably certain that the Gryffindor gave him a wink before turning back to the conversation with a more tanned, brightly smiling boy beside him.

Viktor’s head emptied of every coherent thought it had ever held (which Yakov would probably argue was none at all), leaving only white noise behind.

That had definitely been a wink. Yuuri Katsuki had _winked_ at _him_.

He felt a little faint, and even though he used every ounce of willpower he had to focus on eating the ambrosia cake in front of him rather than anything else, he discovered it to be impossible. He could still barely breathe while his heart continued to race like a fleeing unicorn.

What was that guy _doing_ to him? They had never exchanged a word, and Viktor had literally gotten sorted about an hour ago, so…

…why?

As it was, he didn’t really get the time to wonder about it for much longer before the tables were cleared of food and Headmistress McGonagall rose from her seat again, effectively silencing the chatter in the hall.

“Now, before you head to your dorms for a good night’s rest, there are only a few things that need to be said.” Her gaze swept over the students, and Viktor somehow got the feeling that she managed to look each and every one in the eye in the process.

She cleared her throat, “First, I will remind you that the Forbidden Forest is off limits to all students, and second, I’ve been asked by our caretaker, Mr. Newbourne, to tell you that the list of illegal objects in the school can be found on the main notice-board in the Entrance Hall, as well as in his office.

“And last but not least, as you might have noticed, Professor Slughorn has finally been granted his long-awaited retirement after an additional eight years at Hogwarts he had never planned for. This year, two people will fill his shoes.” She paused briefly, turning slightly towards the Slytherin table. “His successor as the Slytherin Head of House will be our Ancient Runes-teacher, Professor Farley.”

The Slytherins applauded their new Head of House, unmistakably the youngest teacher at the Staff Table; a woman in her thirties (at most) with curly, platinum blond hair that stood up to give the applauding students a nod, no smile visible as far as the eye could see.

The Headmistress cleared her throat again as Professor Farley sat back down.

“And now, allow me to introduce you to our new Potions Master; formerly a teacher at Koldovstoretz, Professor Yakov Feltsman.”

Viktor grinned and applauded the stone-faced old man as he stood up to essentially glare at everyone before sitting down again. No other round of applause that night had been as politely restrained as the one he received.

Chris turned to look at Viktor, cocking an eyebrow.

“Your old teacher followed you here, huh?”

Viktor shrugged, “He found out about the position long before it was settled that we were going to move here, so it’s more the other way around, you could say… he teaches ice-skating, too; hopefully he’ll continue to do that.” He really couldn’t help himself, never one to pass up on an opportunity to tease his mentor, allowing a wicked grin to spread on his lips. “I bet he’s here for his ex-wife, though.”

One day, he would probably pay the prize for saying that, but that was for another day. For now, he could only relish in the effect of his words, seeing Chris’ eyes widen comically.

“His ex…” he glanced over at the Staff Table, trying not to gape, “…no way.”

He had clearly been able to put two and two together. Viktor smiled, entirely unapologetic.

“Yes way.”

Headmistress McGonagall then cut the chatter short again by wishing them all good night, which was very welcome, because coming to think of it, Viktor did feel as if though his brain had been Evanescoed from his head and been replaced with a fluffy cloud instead, his eyelids feeling heavy above dry, tired eyes. He rose along with Chris, who assured him he would show him to the common room.

Even in the slight daze, Viktor clearly felt his blond friend nudge his arm, catching his attention. When he blinked in confusion, Chris merely tilted his head towards the Gryffindor table, coaxing Viktor to follow his gaze.

It led him exactly where he thought it would.

His next intake of breath was sucked in a little sharper as Yuuri Katsuki landed within Viktor’s field of vision, gesturing for the first years to come over to him and a girl with wavy, amber hair. He looked, frankly, unfairly attractive standing up. His lean, seemingly soft body screamed _dancer_ and _athlete_ all over from miles away, even when obscured by the flowy fabric of his black school robes. Embarrassingly enough, perhaps because he was tired and his brain in need of a Reparo, Viktor caught himself salivating.

Oh, Merlin, that boy was turning him into a horny teenager!

…wait… he was a teenager.

That really didn’t help, did it?

The object of Viktor’s suddenly awakened embarrassment was standing all too tall (not that he actually was _that_ tall, but his posture made him _look_ tall) and all to straight in the middle of a bunch of eleven-year-olds that had scrambled over to him and the girl. It looked like Yuuri had proceeded to count heads while the girl told the first-years something with a sun-bright smile on her face, and only stopped when Yuuri apparently confirmed that everyone was present.

And then he started walking.

He really should have a bunch of warning-signs pointing in his direction. Big ones; preferably glowing.

Viktor seriously did wonder if the universe was enjoying screwing him over, because wasn’t it only yesterday that he had admired his father’s light steps and fluid movements? And was that really a _pleasant shudder_ tingling up his spine just now? _Honestly?_

Yuuri Katsuki could easily have given Ilia Nikiforov a run for his money, which was saying a lot, because he made walking, _walking_ , look flawlessly elegant. It looked more like he was floating than taking steps, smoothly making his way across the floor at a pace he was sure the first-years would be able to keep up with while the girl took up the rear, keeping the bunch together. Yuuri glanced over his shoulder every so often, offering soft, reassuring smiles to the eager new students that were trailing after him like ducklings.

Viktor was so focused on the handsome Gryffindor that he almost yelped, jumping slightly as something nudged his side. Chris was grinning knowingly at him.

“Come on.” He winked, pulling Viktor along.

They ended up essentially following the swan and his cygnets to the Entrance Hall and up the stairs along with a horde of other Ravenclaws and Gryffindors on a mission to get to their dorms for some well-needed rest. The Hufflepuff and Slytherin common rooms had to be someplace else, Viktor’s brain attempted to inform him, but he barely registered it as he was occupied staring at the back of Mr. Head Boy.

Reaching the seventh (was it the seventh?) floor, the Gryffindors suddenly headed off in another direction than Chris was trying to steer Viktor in. The tinge of disappointment spreading from his chest as he watched Yuuri walk off without a care in the world, must have been evident on his face because Chris gave his arm a light squeeze.

“I know, I know,” he offered sympathetically, leading Viktor down another corridor, “he’s something else, all right.”

 _Yeah_ , Viktor heard his mind supply internally, having no idea if he ever said it aloud or not, _he is_.

He barely managed to register that he would have to answer a riddle posed by the bronze knocker shaped like an eagle’s head every time he wanted to get inside the Ravenclaw Tower. Fortunately, he had never had a problem of solving riddles, contrary to many other wizards (especially pure-bloods), and he really had his father to thank for that.

His thoughts seemed absolutely and unrelentingly intent on steering themselves towards the raven-haired Gryffindor time and time again, and Viktor scarcely registered the common room around him, somewhere in the back of his mind making a mental note to look more closely the following day. When he finally climbed into his very own four-poster bed in the dorm he shared with Chris, Nathaniel, and Sherwood, he only had to close his eyes before being supplied by the image of warm, dark eyes behind a pair of rectangular spectacles, a soft smile adorning finely sculpted, honey features…

Viktor sighed inwardly. Probably outwardly, too.

And came to a resolve.

He was going to get to know Yuuri Katsuki. One way or another, preferably sooner rather than later. He wanted those warm eyes to look at him and him alone, and he wanted wrap himself around the lean, soft figure and have a pair of undoubtedly strong arms envelop him in turn.

At what point his thoughts had slipped into his world of dreams, Viktor didn’t really know. What he _did_ know was that when he awoke the following morning, he was hugging the sheets tightly, wrapped around them like a koala.

Embracing them as if holding another person sleeping next to him…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Choosing houses for the YOI-characters is... Merlin, it's hard. I used some very scientific tests (read: Buzzfeed) and brainstorming together with the devil of a prompt-maker that made me do this, and came to these conclusions. For now, I can only swear it wasn't done on a whim, and that (as usual when I get to plan something) it has some purpose or other. Please don't Avada Kedavra me just yet.
> 
> Now I'm taking a break over midsummer, and I'm back to writing again on Monday. The next chapter will be up on Wednesday/Thursday, if my schedule holds.
> 
> Thank you all for the encouraging kudos and comments so far! I'll find time to reply next week ^.^ Hugs!


	3. Heard in Hogsmeade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor's first week at Hogwarts flies past faster than he can say "Wingardium Leviosa", and he's very excited to finally visit Hogsmeade Village on Saturday. At The Three Broomsticks, however, he accidentally overhears a conversation he really wasn't supposed to hear... or was he?

”So,” Chris grinned at Viktor, slumping down on the couch next to the Russian in the Ravenclaw common room, ”how do you like it here so far, Mr. Nikiforov?”

A small laugh escaped Viktor’s lips, and he resolved to mark the page in _Quintessence: A Quest_ before turning his full attention to his best friend. Yes, _best friend_.

The concept felt so foreign to him, and yet, with Chris, it somehow… wasn’t. Foreign, that was. Like it was meant to be that way. Like the universe had decided for Viktor to end up at Hogwarts with the sole purpose of becoming Christophe Giacometti’s best friend.

Well, that, and drooling all over Yuuri Katsuki’s existence.

…uh, _krhm!_ Anyway!

Viktor tilted his head slightly, unable to keep a bright smile off his face, “Does it look like I’m not enjoying myself?”

Because, really, despite the initial worry that the looming threat of Inferno would ruin all his chances of ever having a good time at his new school, that hadn’t been the case at all so far, and it was already Thursday. He had found himself wondering if that had been the reality of Harry Potter, too; going on with his everyday life at Hogwarts, playing Quidditch and laughing with his friends despite having Lord Voldemort lurking in the shadows at all times. It probably had.

Classes so far had been mostly fun and all of them interesting, even with Yakov being his grumpy self and Lilia seemingly having hardened even more over the years since Viktor had known her, but in the end, it all felt more exciting than it ever had at the always stern and strict Koldovstoretz.

The Ravenclaw Head of House, Professor Flitwick, had to be the most adorable little Charms-teacher in history, Viktor figured, and he found himself eagerly jotting down notes every lesson, which was a first for him in any Charms class ever due to his father’s expertise on the matter. Then there was Professor Okukawa, who taught Transfiguration, and apparently also dance together with Lilia. She was stern but just, managed to keep them occupied and hard at work without being too intimidating (unlike Lilia), and according to the rumors, she had grown very fond of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey upon moving to the UK to teach.

On the opposite side of the scale from Lilia was Professor Hagrid, who went on without a care in the world and a smile on his face behind the unruly bushes of hair. He had started the year by inviting Firenze, a serious yet friendly centaur from the Forbidden Forest, to visit the sixth-year class and tell them about his species. Apparently, Firenze had been somewhat reluctant when Hagrid had asked him about it for the first time a year prior (which had been the first time during the Gamekeeper’s years of teaching that there had been a N.E.W.T.:s class in Care of Magical Creatures) but in the end, the centaur had still agreed, claiming he owed Hagrid that. The professor, however, swore to the class afterwards that the half-man, half-palomino actually enjoyed giving lectures.

The only teacher on his schedule that Viktor had yet to experience (later the same day, coming to think of it) was the Gryffindor Head of House, Professor Cialdini, who taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. According to Chris, the Italian was an endless source of energy, always encouraging towards the students, and also a former auror. The last piece of information set off bells in Viktor’s head, and he could only silently wonder if maybe, just maybe, Professor Cialdini had been asked by his former colleagues and the Headmistress to keep an eye on him.

Somehow, it felt likely.

Neither Quidditch nor any other extra-curricular activities had really kicked off yet, but true to his promise, Viktor had signed up for tryouts for the position as Seeker on the Ravenclaw team the following week, with Sara impatiently hovering over his shoulder. He had also agreed to attend the Charms Club with Chris to check it out on Monday.

Then, he had signed up for dancing lessons with Lil-, _ugh_ , Professors Baranovskaya and Okukawa, which were due to start the following week as well, on Thursday. His hand had trembled slightly as he scribbled his name on the parchment, seeing _Yuuri Katsuki_ written right at the top of the list in neat cursive. Chris hadn’t been able to hold his snigger as he placed his name beneath Viktor’s.

Viktor would probably never admit it (except for to Chris), but it really did bug him that he was a year below the raven-haired Gryffindor. It annoyed him more than he would like that they had literally zero classes together, and therefore, he couldn’t sit and stare longingly at the back of Yuuri’s head or try to impress him with some knowledge or other about spells and charms.

It was probably good for his grades, though.

At least he could spend every break he had trying to get a glimpse of the boy. Childishly enough, he had actually attempted to avoid it at the beginning of the week (which was approximately until Monday around breakfast), but he quickly found it was impossible for him to tear his gaze away from Yuuri Katsuki. Quidditch Captain, best Chaser in the school, Head Boy, and, if the rumors were true, just as skilled on the dancefloor as he was with magic. And also, according to the rumors, the dance professors’ favorite.

Viktor was inclined to believe all the rumors to be true.

As if sensing in which direction his thoughts had gone (again), Chris’ grin turned devious.

“Oh, darling, I can tell all the way from the North Tower that you’re enjoying yourself.” He assured, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “How’s Mr. Head Boy’s ass doing as of late?”

Viktor almost choked on his own breathing, cheeks flaring a bright shade of Gryffindor scarlet. How ironic.

“ _Chris!_ ”

He received an all too innocent (but not) look in response, “What?” his fellow Ravenclaw winked, “I thought you’d happen to know.”

Viktor resorted to hit him with the closest couch pillow.

There was really no denying it, though. Yuuri Katsuki had Viktor more and more captivated by simply existing and going on with his everyday life at Hogwarts, and there was nothing he could do but allow himself to be dragged deeper and deeper down into the pools of melted chocolate that were his eyes.

The Gryffindor’s smile was warm and bright when joking around with his housemates, mostly the tanned boy Viktor had learned was Yuuri’s best friend and Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Phichit Chulanont, and his maroon eyes shone with that seemed to be an everlasting flame, a Gubraithian fire that couldn’t be quelled. His honey skin, that appeared to turn a little fairer as the weather slowly got chillier (had it been a tan from a summer spent in Japan, maybe?), and raven hair both looked so invitingly soft that Viktor really just wanted to reach out to touch. To _feel_.

On Tuesday night when he had already been lying in bed, Viktor’s thoughts had slipped over to fantasies about running his fingers through said raven locks to smooth out those few, charmingly unruly strands of hair to smooth them out…

…before his dream unhelpfully supplied him with images of doing things to the hair’s owner that made it all messy again.

Waking up terribly embarrassed with himself, Viktor had headed to the bathroom for an early morning bath to clear his thoughts. He chose to set the water to cold, just in case.

Then, it had gotten worse, because just as his luck would have it, Yuuri had caught him glancing (staring) at him in the hallway the following day. Viktor had frozen on spot when maroon eyes had locked onto his azures, and somehow gotten the feeling that Yuuri _knew_ that he wouldn’t be able to look anywhere else for as long as he held his gaze. Not even if Viktor wanted to run in the other direction in embarrassment.

At first, Yuuri had merely looked. Then, he had smiled. Small and smug, sending a shudder crawling up Viktor’s spine, butterflies entangling themselves in his stomach.

And _then_ , just before he turned around to continue on his way, Yuuri had winked. He had _definitely_ winked. At Viktor.

Again.

Viktor had felt like he had downed an entire bottle of Pepperup Potion, flushing a brilliant shade of red and being absolutely certain that steam was coming out of his ears due to the heat. After that, he had decided to spend the rest of the day studying with Chris in the Ravenclaw Tower, but that had backfired spectacularly, since Chris _of course_ had noticed the incident and proceeded to tease Viktor into oblivion about it.

Viktor had countered by not waking him up in time for breakfast the following morning. And really, in doing so, they had more or less solidified their friendship.

Hence, presently, Chris merely laughed (almost wheezed) at Viktor’s look of scandalous surprise at having been confronted with the inquiry of the well-being of Yuuri Katsuki’s ass. Mercifully, he changed the subject to spare him any further need for burn-healing paste:

“Anyhow, the first Hogsmeade weekend is right around the corner, you know?” he said instead, casually, like Viktor hadn’t been bouncing around like an excited puppy all week with enthusiasm about it, “We should go on Saturday.”

“And get homework done tomorrow, yeah.” Viktor pondered, leaning back on the couch, twirling a strand of silver hair around his index finger absentmindedly. “Maybe on Sunday, too?”

Chris hummed, “If the weather permits, then why not.”

“More like if the workload permits.” Viktor added as an afterthought.

“That, too.” Chris agreed with a dramatic sigh. “Life as a N.E.W.T.-student is hard.”

Viktor shrugged, “It’s about the same amount of work so far as in the fourth and fifth year at Koldovstoretz.”

“You Russians are insane.” Chris shook his head, but he was still grinning. Then, he gestured towards the _Quintessence_ -book on the table. “Do you need to continue that now, or want to play a round of chess?”

Viktor chuckled, placing the book in his bag, “Give me the blacks and I’m in.”

 

**

 

It was on Saturday after lunch that Viktor and Chris decided to head to Hogsmeade, along with most of the other students from the third year and up. Sara, who was accompanying her brother and a red-headed Gryffindor girl who introduced herself as Mila Babicheva for the excursion, laughed at Viktor’s puppy-like enthusiasm when they exited the Hogwarts grounds and headed towards the wizarding village. Viktor didn’t mind; he was too excited to get there and experience everything from Honeydukes to Zonko’s, The Three Broomsticks and all the other places he had been told about.

Chris had promised to show him around, but when they reached the village, it was mostly Viktor that dragged him around instead, asking questions and gushing about anything he found even remotely amazing (which was just about everything).

They visited Honeydukes, stuffing their bags full of candy, and then Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop, because Chris preferred their quills over the ones found in Diagon Alley, resulting in Viktor also buying a couple to try them out. The Russian then sprinted right across the street to Spintwitches Sporting Needs, claiming that he absolutely needed more broom polish if he was going to continue playing Quidditch regularly (he ignored Chris’ sniggers behind his back).

A quick glance into Zonko’s Joke Shop, however, was all it took for Viktor to deem the shop wasn’t for him, packed to the brim with mischievous troublemakers.

“There are rumors going around that Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes are going to buy up the shop since Zonko’s owner is getting old.” Chris told him. “I hope they do; they have products that can actually be useful, and of much higher quality overall.”

He then offered to show Viktor the infamous Shrieking Shack by the outskirts of the village instead. The poke-the-wall-and-it’ll-fall-house definitely looked like it could use a good makeover, and Viktor found himself a little amazed by the fact that it was still standing. Then again, it was undoubtedly built with magic, otherwise it would have collapsed decades ago.

“They say a lonely spirit once went there to cause a ruckus about once a month around full moon, but nobody’s heard it for years.” Chris indulged him. “They also say that the former Headmaster, Severus Snape, died in there, and that _he’s_ now haunting the place.” He offered an amused smile. “Probably just stories, though.”

Viktor agreed.

Finally, they headed to The Three Broomsticks, and Chris told Viktor to grab any booth available by the far wall while he went to order them some butterbeer. Viktor did as told, ending up claiming the more secluded one in the corner as none other was vacant at the moment, and then waved at Chris when he came over a minute later.

“Madam Rosmerta will bring the drinks in a moment.” He said as he slid into the booth on the opposite side of the table from Viktor, explaining his empty-handed arrival. “She was busy mixing drinks for some locals.”

He barely had time to finish the sentence before the curvy landlady appeared, holding two butterbeer-pints in her hands, sporting a warm, kind smile on her face.

“Here you are, sweethearts.” She cooed, placing the pints down in front of them. “Two butterbeers, all paid for. Enjoy!”

“Next, time, it’s on me.” Viktor told Chris firmly when they had thanked Madam Rosmerta and she had headed on her way. He then inhaled the honey-like smell of the drink before lifting his pint. “ _Na zdorovye!_ ”

“ _Saluti!_ ” Chris replied.

Taking a sip of the famous drink, Viktor made a mental note to _always_ order it when visiting Hogsmeade, because Madam Rosmerta’s butterbeer was probably made of divine nectar and the tears of happy unicorns. Chris then made him repeat the Russian counterpart for “cheers!” (or, rather, “to health!”) several times until he could pronounce it, too.

“And what did you say?” Viktor asked curiously in turn, “Was it Italian?”

Chris nodded, smiling, “ _Saluti_. My dad speaks Italian as his first language, and my mum speaks French as hers.” The smile quirked into a grin, and he winked. “The perks of being born and raised bilingual in Switzerland, you know? Fluency in two languages of love.” He took a sip of his drink while Viktor chuckled at him. “It’s refreshing to speak Italian with Sara and Mickey at times… and with Professor Cialdini, occasionally.”

“And French?”

Chris smirked, “Well, Louis is from Switzerland, too.”

Of course he was.

Viktor silently vowed to learn to speak at least one of Chris’ native languages. Maybe French.

And on that note, it really was amazing to think what kind of a melting-pot of nationalities Hogwarts really was, or had become in the years following the Second Wizarding War…

Viktor’s once again wandering train of thought was interrupted by his ears catching the sound of a familiar laugh that made his whole body go rigid. The laugh in question had never been directed to him, but he had heard it a time or ten during the past week, and knew very well whom it belonged to. He discreetly peeked out of the corner booth, hoping he wasn’t visible to the raven-haired Gryffindor and his best friend that had just entered the crowded inn.

Yuuri Katsuki’s cheeks were dusted a healthy shade of pink from the chilly weather outside, and he seemed to be gesturing for Phichit to find them somewhere to sit while he headed over to the bar. To Viktor’s absolute horror and simultaneous excitement, Phichit made his way over to the booth next to theirs, which had probably cleared out moments earlier, claiming it for Yuuri and himself. Viktor quickly ducked his head a little further down, praying to Merlin that no silver strands were visible above the (thankfully) high backrest.

Out of view, perhaps, but definitely within earshot.

Chris looked more than amused when they heard Yuuri join Phichit and sit down opposite him, back to back with Viktor. He gave the Russian a knowing look and brought a finger to his lips for silence.

Viktor swallowed a lump in his throat. They were really doing this, were they?

He really shouldn’t eavesdrop, he _shouldn’t_ …!

“Here you are, my darlings.” Madam Rosmerta’s voice came floating over from the booth next to theirs, obviously placing two pints on the wooden table. “Two butterbeers for my favorite Gryffindors.”

“Oh?” Phichit’s voice perked up, sounding just as cheeky as the bright grin he seemed to be wearing at all times, “What has our Prince Charming done this time?”

“I merely observed that Madam Rosmerta is wearing a new scarf and that she looks lovely today.” Yuuri easily replied.

The landlady chuckled, “You shouldn’t shower an old lady with compliments like that, honey; you’re making me blush!”

“He makes most people blush by breathing in their general direction.” Phichit offered sympathetically, even if he sounded utterly unapologetic. “He’s right, though; you do look lovely today, ma’am.”

“You two are going to be the death of me.” Madam Rosmerta sighed, but the smile could be heard from miles away. “Please, enjoy your drinks, darlings.” Her heels clicked against the wooden floor as she headed back over to the bar, leaving the two to mind their own business.

“Well, then,” Phichit spoke cheerily, “our first butterbeers of our final year at Hogwarts. _Kanpai!_ ”

“ _Kanpai!_ ”

Two pints clinked together and silence ruled for a moment as the boys drank. Then, simultaneously, they placed the drinks back down.

“So, Quidditch tryouts next week.” Phichit continued excitedly. “Do I still have a chance, Mr. Captain, or is there someone smaller and faster than me threatening to take over my position?”

“Smaller, perhaps, and maybe faster, but none with better accuracy.” Yuuri replied thoughtfully. “I’d say your position as Seeker is safe, unless there’s some rising talent among the second years I don’t know of.”

“What about the others?”

“Mila is definitely continuing as Chaser, and Mickey and Tanner are more or less confirmed Beaters for, what… the fifth year in a row?”

“And no one’s taking the position as Keeper from Otabek anytime soon.” Phichit added.

“He’s a brick wall.” Yuuri agreed. “But we need a third Chaser now, and the spot is probably going to Kenjirou; he was a good back-up last year when Mila was recovering in the Hospital Wing during the game against Hufflepuff.”

Phichit laughed, “Just imagine him hear you say that; the boy worships the ground you walk on.” He started shamelessly imitating a high-pitched, excited voice: “Yuuri-kun, could you pleeeaaase sign this photo I took of you while you were having breakfast in the Great Hall, and look, I have a pillow with your face on it, Yuuuuri-kuuuun…!”

“Phichit…” Yuuri sighed, sounding mostly exasperated and not too amused.

“He’s going to slip Amortentia into your goblet as soon as he learns to make it.”

“I’ll just have to look out for katsudon-smelling pumpkin juice, then. And he does _not_ have a pillow with my face on it.”

“You’re right, he probably has an entire dakimakura.”

“Anyway,” Yuuri cut him off firmly, Phichit still sniggering at his own thoughts, “EC-classes also start next week. Did you sign up for both art and muggle art again?”

“Yup!” Phichit chirped, “Although I might have to drop muggle art, considering the N.E.W.T.:s are right around the corner. If I’m going to have two EC:s and Quidditch on top of all the studying, I might just drop dead by Christmas.”

“Please don’t.” The smile on Yuuri’s face could well be heard even with the high backrest between the booths.

“I’ll try not to.” His best friend reassured him. “But speaking of extra-curricular activities, what was Professor Okukawa talking to you about yesterday? I assumed it had nothing to do with Transfiguration.”

“She just asked if I would mind helping her and Professor Baranovskaya with the newcomers.” Yuuri replied, probably with a shrug regarding the sound of his voice. “The same as last year, nothing new. Apparently, a lot of people have signed up for the beginner’s course again.”

“I wonder why.” Phichit replied, sarcasm dripping from his words, voice all too smug. “I thought that Okukawa was finally asking you to stop wearing tights because of the distraction they cause in class-”

“Did you finish your DADA-essay, Phichit-kun?” Yuuri swiftly changed the subject.

In front of Viktor, Chris was clutching his stomach in silent laughter, looking like he was having a field day watching the steadily rising heat on Viktor’s once pale (now crimson) cheeks. The Russian glared at his friend in response.

“Nope, I didn’t!” Phichit cheerfully admitted, “Almost but not quite, actually; I still have to write a summary at the end. You’ll read it through when I’m done, yes?”

Yuuri let out an amused chuckle, “Since you asked so nicely.”

A dramatic sigh, “What in the name of Merlin would I do without you? You finished the essay already, then, I gather.”

“Guess twice.”

Viktor could almost hear the eye-roll accompanying the small sigh, “Of course you did. How can I repay you?”

“Sneak to the kitchens and have katsudon with me?”

Phichit let out a bark of laughter, “I should have known that was coming; of course I’ll have katsudon with you! Anything else?”

Yuuri hummed, a soft, deep sound that made Viktor’s heart flutter and skin tingle pleasantly, “What are you offering?”

“Gossip.” The mischievous, cheeky voice told Viktor that Phichit surely had a wicked grin to match on his face.

Yuuri snorted, “You know how interested I am in _that_.”

“Oh, come on, Yuuurii!” Phichit whined playfully, “I swear you’re going to be interested in _this_.”

“Am I?” Yuuri inquired skeptically, tone laced with amusement, “Very well, humor me, then.”

“Oh, I will!” Phichit promised excitedly, and it sounded like he clasped his hands together as he did. Then, he lowered his voice a little, but Viktor could still hear him clearly, and what he heard next was something that punched the air out of his lungs and set his entire upper body on fire.

“You know the new Ravenclaw transfer?” Phichit spoke, and even Chris stilled, eyes widening as he leaned forward to hear a little better, “The Russian?”

“Viktor.”

Yuuri supplied the name as easily as if he had been talking about a friend. Or a pet. It caused Viktor’s heart to jump straight up in his throat, all his bodily functions going into overdrive, shutting down, as if having been hit dead-on with a Petrificus Totalus.

_Yuuri… knew his name?_

“Him, yes.” Phichit confirmed, and no, this really wasn’t a conversation Viktor should be eavesdropping on, not that he really had a choice any longer if he didn’t want to make his presence known (and embarrassingly enough, he was also too curious). “I mean, have you noticed?”

“Noticed what?” Yuuri asked, confused.

“That he’s always looking at you? Because he is. Well, I mean, everyone looks at you, but he’s _looking_ at you.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Will you start making sense soon, Phichit-kun, or do I have to wait until dinner tomorrow for that?”

“I’m making perfect sense!” Phichit insisted, “Whenever he spots you, he can’t look away, which means it’s easy for me to notice. My point being,” it sounded like he was leaning over the table slightly, “don’t you think the boy’s kind of… cute?”

_Huh?_

“Yes.”

Viktor froze. The shock that rang through his whole being must have made his face look funny, because Chris had to inhale _deeply_ so as not to laugh aloud. Not that Viktor really had the time to register that, because neither the universe nor coherent thoughts existed in his plain of reality any longer.

 _Yuuri thinks… I’m_ cute?!

In the booth behind his back, Phichit let out an exasperated noise.

“Blunt and straight to the point; you’re as fun to tease as a Flobberworm!”

“I’m being honest.” Yuuri replied simply, as if he was talking about the weather. “He’s cute.”

“I know that! Rumor has it that he’s part Veela, by the way.”

_…no, he wasn’t._

Yuuri hummed lightly, “Really? Well, I wouldn’t be too surprised, I guess.”

Viktor’s head was spinning as the world around him had stopped moving. Actually, it probably had more to do with the fact that his lungs weren’t capable of supplying him with enough oxygen due to _too much_ all at once.

Yuuri Katsuki was too much all at once, and Viktor still wanted more. No, it didn’t matter that he would probably burn down to a pile of ashes in the process.

Because… oh Merlin.

_Yuuri thought… he could be part Veela? He thought Viktor was…_

…he couldn’t even bring himself to finish the thought, and he didn’t have the time to, because Yuuri spoke again, and the subtle change in his tone sent a shiver down Viktor’s spine:

“Where are you going with this, Phichit-kun?” he asked slowly, tone laced with suspicion.

“Oh, nowhere, of course.” His best friend replied sweetly, indicating the answer to be the exact opposite. “I’m just saying, Yuuri-kun, that it would be nice to know what he thinks about you.”

“Oh, would it? I bet you would be very interested in knowing what that one Ravenclaw prefect thinks about _you_.” Yuuri deadpanned. Judging by the silence that followed, he had hit a mark with his choice of words. “If I want to know, I’m perfectly capable of finding out myself.”

“I’m going to bet that if you tried talking to Pretty Boy he would blush up to his ears and run in the other direction.” Phichit found his tongue to clip back. “He seems jumpy around you.”

“According to you, he isn’t the only one.”

“Nope, but he’s definitely cuter than most.”

“That, I can’t argue with.” Viktor might as well have downed another Pepperup Potion judging by the heat flaring on his cheeks and the steam surely rising from his ears by that point. “On another note, what time is it?”

“Five to four. Do you still want to use the dance room before dinner?”

Yuuri chuckled, “Minako-sensei might kill me if I’m not in shape in time for beginner’s class on Thursday.”

“Probably.” Phichit agreed with a laugh. “Can I watch? Might provide some inspiration for arts class. What were you planning on?”

“Sure, if you want to.” It sounded like Yuuri shrugged. “And just ballet today, back to basics.”

Viktor blinked, staring at the corner of the booth in disbelief. Since when was ballet _just_ ballet?

“Awesome!” Phichit clapped his hands together, or so it sounded. “By the way, I saw that the Russian puffskein has signed up for dance class, too; advanced. Think he’s good? I bet he’d _love_ to be swept off his feet by the handsome Mr. Head Boy.”

“Phichit…” Yuuri sighed, exasperated, but his best friend was relentless.

“I’m telling you, Captain, your legs in those tights you wear in practice are a sinful combination; I’m surprised they’re not banned at school entirely by this point. I’m betting my hamsters that Pretty Boy would enjoy seeing you on pole…”

A pint was firmly placed down on the table, and by the sharpness of the noise, Viktor concluded it wasn’t Phichit’s.

“Deal’s off, I’m not reading your DADA-essay.” Yuuri announced, apparently standing up and already moving away before his best friend finally caught up with what was happening.

“Wha-, no! Wait, _Yuuri!_ ”

Phichit sprinted off after him, shouting apologies after his best friend, promising everything from being quiet the entire evening to catching the Snitch at record time during their game against Slytherin in October. He was still apologizing when he finally made it out the door.

Viktor was stunned to a state of dead silence, unable to process what he had just heard due to his momentarily (or possibly permanently) Stupefied braincells. Chris watched him curiously, his face soon breaking into an all too wicked grin.

“Did you catch that, darling?” he asked sweetly, emerald eyes twinkling with mischief, “Yuuri Katsuki can pole dance.”

 

“He knew.”

The realization hit Viktor like a slap from the Whomping Willow. Chris, who was petting his precious cat, Pearl, looked up at him, “Who knew what?”

“Phichit Chulanont.” Viktor elaborated, or his lips did, because his brain was still trying to process the discovery. “He knew we were sitting there, he knew we would hear. He just _knew_. He must have.”

Chris hummed thoughtfully, the sound mixing with the soft purring from the white Turkish Angora.

“Maybe he did.” He agreed. “Quite possibly, now that you mention it.”

Viktor’s gaze finally snapped over to him fully, “He _meant_ for me to hear all that. Why? Is he trying to make fun of me?”

Chris chuckled, “Highly unlikely; the only person Phichit ever makes fun of is Yuuri. I’d say he saw a golden opportunity to bring it up and both make you hear it and make Yuuri flustered. He didn’t exactly succeed too well with the letter, though.” He paused. “Then again, how do we know that? Maybe his face was burning up and we just couldn’t see it.”

“So he wasn’t making fun of me?” Viktor insisted impatiently.

“I can’t think of a single reason for him wanting to do so.”

“Right.” The Russian sighed, pulling at the hairband and undoing his ponytail to braid his silver locks for the night. “But he definitely knew we were there and that we would hear.”

“That sounds exactly like something Chulanont would do.” Chris agreed, allowing Pearl to affectionately lick his hand. “Speaking of which, Katsuki mentioned a Ravenclaw prefect to make him shut up. Whom might he have a crush on?”

Viktor had completely forgotten about that small piece of information.

“I barely know the prefects.” He reminded Chris. “But maybe someone in the same year as them?”

Chris furrowed his brows, “That would mean either Robbie, you know, Roberta, or Seung-Gil.” A bright grin spread on his face. “Just imagine Gryffindor’s ray of sunshine having a crush on our grumpy alchemist.”

Viktor couldn’t help but join in on the laughter. Seung-Gil was probably more than lucky not to share a dorm with them. Or maybe, Viktor and Chris were the lucky ones, because Seung-Gil surely wouldn’t hesitate turning all their galleons into coal in revenge.

 

His dreams that night were filled with images so vivid that Viktor had to get up at six on Sunday morning to pour himself a (cool) bath again, willing his jumbled thoughts to straighten out a little more. He sighed, a slow, tired exhale, leaning back in the tub, eyes fixed on the marble ceiling.

Yuuri knew his name. That was an incomprehensible fact, and unfortunately for his sleep, only the beginning of it.

Because there was also the _utterly_ incomprehensible fact that Yuuri, _Yuuri Katsuki_ , thought that Viktor was cute. Never in a million years would he be able to understand that, but Yuuri actually thought _he was cute!_

He also thought Viktor could be part Veela, apparently. Which Chris had helpfully translated to “he thinks you’re gorgeous, darling.” Once he would someday be able to swallow that fact, he could probably die happy.

Feeling a little faint from too many thoughts and too little sleep, Viktor decided to slip into a fresh set of silk pajamas and head down to the common room, where he slumped down on the couch to stare into the fireplace. Watching the dancing flames, his (not at all) helpful mind soon supplied him with images of being swept off his feet by the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain in a languid waltz that somehow slipped into a tango, that turned into a couple’s flamenco…

He muffled an exasperated groan by burying his face into the closest couch pillow.

Breakfast be damned, Viktor decided. He wasn’t ready to see Yuuri just yet.

 

Unbeknownst to him, in another tower in another wing on the same floor, a raven-haired student was slumped on the couch in an otherwise empty common room, too, cursing his best friend into oblivion while trying to distract himself with _Quidditch Through the Ages_. Breakfast be damned. He needed more sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, did Yuuri find out if Phichit set that up or not? And why would he do that? We'll see.
> 
> The idea for the overheard conversation came from a real-life situation, where a friend of mine had been talking about her crush to her bestie at a café, and then spotted said crush sitting right in the booth behind her when she stood up to leace... the only thing stopping her from fleeing the country was that she hadn't uttered his name once during the conversation, so maybe, just maybe, he didn't know he was being talked about at all :'D
> 
> Next up: London, Quidditch, and dance class. Oh boy.
> 
> Thank you all so much for the encouraging comments and kudos! <3 I strive to have the following chapter up towards the end of next week ^.^


	4. Increasing Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ludmila and Ilia visit the Ministry of Magic, and despite everything, they wish Viktor can have a good time at Hogwarts.  
> Meanwhile, Viktor is freaking out. For many reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noticed I made a small mistake in the last chapter (and I entirely blame it on exhaustion), but it's now fixed and shouldn't really affect anything too much. As it was written before, it suggested that Viktor (and the rest of the sixth year students) have DADA on Fridays, which they don't, because there are no classes scheduled on Fridays at Hogwarts. I've drawn up Viktor's schedule (among others), and even though it was right there in front of me, I wrote incorrectly and noticed only today. Mistake fixed. Viktor has DADA directly after lunch on Thursdays.

“ _Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services._ ”

“This way, ma’am, sir.” Mr. Potter spoke, stepping out of the elevator, Ludmila and Ilia following closely behind, along with the auror’s curly-haired partner, Neville Longbottom. “Follow me”

Ludmila’s shoulders were unusually tense, a change in her posture ever so small only her husband could have possibly noticed it. Being the attentive husband that he was, Ilia _did_ notice, and placed his hand on her shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. He looked down to find a pair of impossibly blue eyes gazing up at him, twinkling with gratitude and simultaneous distress. He attempted a reassuring smile, but knew full well the worry pooling in his gut was fully visible to his wife in his own eyes.

After all, the eyes were the windows of the soul.

Mr. Potter led them all the way to the end of the long corridor before knocking on the very last door on the right-hand side. The lock clicked opened smoothly, and the auror opened the door and stepped to the side, nodding politely to the two Russians.

“After you.” He offered humbly.

Ludmila only managed a nod, while Ilia gave him a small smile and a “thank you” before doing as asked to, stepping inside the office, the two aurors following them in and closing the door behind them.

The room was spacious and mostly furnished in dark wood, with a sturdy oaken desk and enormous bookshelves covering every inch of the walls that wasn’t windows, through which soft, magical sunlight currently shone through. Beside the desk stood a young woman with curly brown hair pulled up in an elegant hairdo to keep it out of her face. Her eyes spoke of intelligence beyond her years, and the small, sympathetic smile on her lips spoke of the genuine empathy that could only come from a person that had experienced the misfortune of having dark wizards on their heels.

“Mrs. Nikiforova, Mr. Nikiforov,” the young woman spoke, approaching the couple to firmly and steadily shake their hands, “my name is Hermione Granger, and I’m Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Please,” she gestured to a round table closer to the windows, “have a seat.”

“Thank you, mi-” Ilia suddenly noticed the wedding ring on her left ring finger, having almost missed it as he was used to looking for it to the right, “ma’am.” He corrected himself. Mrs. Granger didn’t look either offended nor surprised in the slightest, but simply offered them both a small smile as they sat down by the table together with the two other aurors.

The young woman opened the file in front of her, and then flicked her wand to summon a quill and a small bottle of ink from her desk. She cleared her throat and looked at the couple.

“So, yesterday, a letter was sent from Mrs. Shubina from the IAA to Harry here.” She nodded towards the dark-haired auror. “The letter was addressed to Mrs. Ludmila Nikiforova, and the owl carrying it was caught by Scandinavian aurors.” Her eyes darkened. “The letter was analyzed yesterday.”

Ludmila’s hand found Ilia’s under the table.

“Yes?” she swallowed a lump in her throat.

Mrs. Granger looked at Mr. Potter, who nodded and took a deep breath.

“The parchment was blank, apart from _Inferno_ written on it in blood.” He told them, voice steady. “However, it was cursed, and I’ve never seen anything like it.” He paused for a moment, as if looking for words. “At first, we believed it to be a Flagrante curse, because it was searing hot, but upon further investigation, it behaved more like a Disintegration curse. Our best guess so far is that it’s a combination of the two.” He sighed deeply, “ _But…_ ”

Ludmila’s fingers tightened around her husbands. Ilia squeezed back, furrowing his brows slightly.

“But what, Mr. Potter?” he asked, concern filling his chest.

The Boy Who Lived shook his head slowly, “It was… more than a searing hotness. Like you described back when we first met, Mr. Nikiforov; ‘an invisible Fiendfyre.’”

Ilia’s eyes widened ever so slightly as he sat up a little straighter in his chair. There was no way…

“…inside an envelope?” he wanted to clarify, voice quiet. Mr. Potter nodded.

“Inside an envelope.” He confirmed, a grim look on his face. “And since the owl was caught in Scandinavia, we can only believe that this Inferno knows you have left the country, but perhaps not to where exactly, and hence,” he nodded towards Mrs. Granger, “we are here.”

“Indeed.” The young woman spoke, a sad glimmer in her eyes. “For now, we have some hope that Inferno still doesn’t know of your exact location, but to further ensure your safety, I would have some suggestions, such as blocking your fireplace off for anyone else than yourselves, your son, Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom, and Mr. Robards.”

“And Viktor?” Ludmila spoke, leaning forward a little, an unusually desperate tone in her voice, “I don’t doubt he’s safe within Hogwarts’ walls, but what about the Hogsmeade trips? Is he safe there?”

Mrs. Granger looked thoughtful, turning her gaze to Mr. Potter, the two of them apparently having some sort of silent conversation. Finally, she turned back to the couple and nodded slowly.

“We will pose the question further to Headmistress McGonagall and former auror, Defense Against the Dark Arts professor Celestino Cialdini. For now, your son is in no imminent danger in Hogsmeade as far as I can see, but should Inferno find their way here, he would be required to stay within the castle walls at all times. The decision, however, is ultimately up to you.”

Ludmila looked up at Ilia, who met her worried gaze with a contemplating one. She was silently asking the question he was attempting to answer. He offered her a small smile.

“Let him have fun, _zvezda_.” He finally decided to say. “Should Inferno find their way here, we will know, and only then will we tell him not to exit the castle grounds.” He rubbed small circles into the back of her palm soothingly. “He should have to think and worry about all of this as little as possible.”

Ludmila was silent for a moment, studying his expression, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Slowly, ever so slowly, she nodded.

“You’re right, Ilyusha.” She replied, voice still steady albeit uncharacteristically quiet. “Viktor should be able to have fun despite everything.” A small, sad smile crept to her lips. “I couldn’t deny him that.”

Ilia gave her hand a squeeze, smiling back.

His wife might have been what some would call a merciless politician, but as a mother, she was the exact opposite. Not in an eternity and beyond could she have denied their Vitya anything, least of all happiness.

And based on the letters they had received from him so far, Viktor really was happy. Or so Ilia hoped.

 

**

 

Viktor was freaking out.

“How many people did you say signed up for the position as Seeker again?” he asked Chris for the millionth time as they entered the Quidditch pitch, filled with Ravenclaw students that had either signed up for tryouts, or that had joined to cheer their friends on.

“Nine, darling.” Chris replied patiently, patting his shoulder. “You’ll do fine; you caught all the balls I had flying around the court just a few days ago, remember? Relax.”

“All right, listen up!” Sara’s voice came floating downwards, and everyone looked up to find her hovering above them on her Cleansweep Eleven, dressed in her blue Quidditch robes, the captain’s badge glimmering on her chest, “Everyone who’s here for the positions of Seeker, Keeper and Beater, please move to the stands to wait for your turn. If you’re here in hope to either become or continue as Chaser, stay on the pitch. Get moving!”

Viktor quickly told Chris good luck and hurried up to the stands with the others who had applied for other positions, among them his dormmate Sherwood, who was there hoping to continue as Beater together with Louis, the guy Chris kept shamelessly flirting with (and frankly enough, Louis was shamelessly flirting back, too).

As those were the ones present that Viktor knew best, he sat down with the two of them to watch as Sara made the potential Chasers go in groups of three around the pitch, immediately sending away those who were clearly slower and not as accurate in their flying as the others.

She then tossed the big, red Quaffle into the game, flying along two applicants at a time to toss the ball back and forth with them, increasing the difficulty level gradually. Lastly, she took the Keeper’s position herself and had the remaining four people (Chris and Hilary among them) try and make as many goals as possible one by one, only giving them two minutes each.

Chris scored a decent four goals, while Hilary managed a whopping six, both outdoing their competition as the two other students left merely managed two each. Sara welcomed her teammates back to loud cheers from the audience, Viktor among those getting to his feet in appreciation.

The confirmed Chasers were then sent off to pull on their blue Quidditch robes while Sara called forth the potential Beaters next, repeating the procedure of having them fly around the court. Sara then joined the remaining four people (three boys and one girl) in the air, handing out Bludger Bats. The task was simple enough: she would toss a ball the size of a Bludger in any direction, and they had to try and hit it through the middle loop of the goal posts. Louis and Sherwood managed to get it right five out of five times each, and easily earned their positions back.

When the Keeper-applicants had been put through the same procedure of flying around the court as the two previous groups, Chris and Hilary joined Sara in the air to put the remaining two to the test. There really was no question about it, however; Seung-Gil Lee blocked every single shot, stoic expression never faltering, completely outdoing his competition.

So far, then, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team remained unchanged, but there was one position that actually had to be replaced.

“Seekers, you’re up!”

Viktor swallowed a small lump in his throat, steeling himself as he grabbed his Firebolt and headed down onto the pitch together with the eight other remaining people, of which he really didn’t know a single one. They looked like mostly second and third years, so…

…maybe he had experience on his side, apparently being the oldest that had applied for the position.

“Groups of three, fly around the court.” Sara ordered, quickly dividing them up. “Only the three fastest will be allowed to stay for round two; speed is absolutely crucial for a Seeker.”

When it finally was time for the last group to go, including Viktor, he already knew he was going to be the fastest to have flown around the court during the tryouts altogether. Kicking off, feeling the surge in the pit of his stomach sending a rush of adrenaline through his veins, wind whipping in his hair, he just knew he was going to do well.

Judging by the pleased grin on Sara’s face when he crossed the finish line (the Ravenclaw stands), he was certain he had set a record. Chris wolf-whistled from down below and Viktor, feeling emboldened by the success, blew him a kiss in response. His best friend pretended to faint from swooning.

Viktor and two girls were then allowed to stay for round two, which consisted of Sara, Chris, and Hilary throwing around an array of Snitch-sized balls, and their task was to catch as many as possible in the span of a two minutes. Viktor didn’t have time to think as he grabbed one after another, slipping them into the pouch dangling from his broom he had been given to collect them in, and when time was up, he had caught almost half of all the balls thrown.

“Well,” Sara stated looking at the three heaps of small balls in front of her on the ground, “I had a round three in mind if this would have been a close call, but we’re going to skip that.” She gave Viktor a satisfied nod. “Let’s go find you some Quidditch robes, Seeker Nikiforov.”

“See?” Chris grinned, placing an arm around his shoulders to pull Viktor into a sideways hug, causing the Russian to laugh in surprise and relief, “Told you you’d do fine.”

 

“All right,” Sara spoke up as the Ravenclaw Quidditch team was seated in the dressing room, all of them with a fresh set of Quidditch robes beside them, “as always, our first match against Hufflepuff is scheduled to the fourth Saturday in November, and since Gryffindor and Slytherin kick the season off two weeks earlier, their training times are prioritized and we take what we can get until then. Now, we’re quite lucky here, since both Katsuki and Leroy already have scheduled their preliminary training times, and we’re a couple of days ahead of Hufflepuff with our tryouts.” She looked down at the parchment in her hand, worrying her bottom lip.

“Until Gryffindor and Slytherin’s game, we’ll have to try and train on Tuesdays, and occasionally on Sundays.” She continued. “But after that, we will have Tuesdays and Fridays at our disposal, if I act now.” She gave them a pointed look. “Sounds manageable?”

“Perfect.” Louis responded, the others nodding in approval.

“Good.” Sara chirped, rolling up the parchment. “I’ll take care of that.” A bright grin lit up her features. “Now, darlings; this is both Louis and Seung-Gil’s last chance at claiming the Quidditch Cup, and this year,” she rested her hands on her hips confidently, “that cup is ours.”

 

“Let me guess,” Viktor spoke as Chris dragged him towards the Room of Rewards, “Gryffindor has won the Quidditch Cup for the past four years?”

Chris huffed a laugh, “You’re a very good guesser.” He confirmed, pointing to the elegant, silver Quidditch trophy within a special glass case in the room. _Gryffindor_ was neatly engraved on the golden plates at the base of it four years in a row.

“Gryffindor had a small winning streak back in the 90’s.” He explained as Viktor scanned the plates. “After that, wins essentially shifted between Ravenclaw and Slytherin until Yuuri Katsuki got sorted four years back and…” he laughed, running a hand through his hair.

“Let’s just say that I don’t think any other Chaser during the history of Quidditch at Hogwarts has had so much impact on the outcome of the games. People were used to thinking that if you caught the Snitch, your team won, you know?” Viktor nodded while Chris shook his head, “Not with Katsuki on the field. A couple of years ago, Gryffindor snatched the victory right under Slytherin’s nose during the opening game when Slytherin’s Seeker, Yuri Plisetsky, didn’t notice the standings and caught the Snitch right after Katsuki had scored Gryffindor their 16th goal. The final standing was 150 to 160 in Gryffindor’s favor.”

Viktor gaped, bewildered, but not really because of Gryffindor’s sixteen goals. Rather…

“Are you saying the Slytherin Chasers didn’t manage to get in a single goal during the entire game?”

“Ah, well, they got one in,” Chris replied, offering him a sheepish grin, “unfortunately for them, though, the goal didn’t count because Madame Hooch had blown off the game seconds prior.”

“Why?”

“One of the Slytherin Chasers, don’t remember who, attempted to ram into Katsuki to literally push him out of the game. Katsuki managed to avoid it by turning upside down, but Madame Hooch deemed it Blatching, and Gryffindor was awarded a penalty… and Katsuki always handles those.”

“And always scores?”

Chris’ smile turned smug, “Oh, honey; you must by now have realized that Yuuri Katsuki _always_ scores.”

Viktor opted not to talk to him for an hour.

 

**

 

Thursday afternoon approached alarmingly fast, and when Viktor returned from Defense Against the Dark Arts-class to the dormitory in the afternoon, he was mildly freaking out. Though, it was a different kind of freaking out than what he had experienced before the Quidditch tryouts the previous day.

It wasn’t a “will I make the cut or embarrass myself?”-kind of freak out, but more of a “I’m about to fall flat on my ass in front of Yuuri Katsuki”-kind of thing.

Putting it lightly, it was far worse.

“Hey, darling, remember to breathe.” Chris laughed, tossing him a pumpkin pasty that he pulled out of Viktor’s own bag, reminding him of its existence. “If your breathing hasn’t slowed down within an hour, I’m going to pour a cauldron full of Euphoria down your throat.”

Viktor gave up a gasp in mock hurt, clutching a hand over his chest while glaring at the Swiss, “How is that going to help _anything?_ ”

“Make you relax.” Chris grinned, pulling out a half-finished Potions-essay from his bag. “And I bet Katsuki wouldn’t complain if you confessed your undying love for him in a Euphoria-induced bliss. Anyway!” he quickly shielded himself as Viktor flung a pillow in his direction, “Let’s try and get something done before it’s time to change and go, all right? I don’t want to leave all the homework to the weekend.”

Viktor grumpily pulled out his own Potions-essay but complied and sat down with him, internally thankful that Chris was trying to distract him. Then again, Chris was most likely trying to distract himself as well, because he had been thoroughly explaining to Viktor the entire week just how mouthwatering a certain Quidditch-teammate of theirs looked in tights and a loose t-shirt.

Chris might have teased Viktor endlessly about his (absolutely hopeless) crush on Yuuri Katsuki, but Viktor could well tease him about Louis in turn… Even though the two actually were flirting shamelessly with each other at just about any chance they got.

“Why haven’t you guys gone out on a date yet?” he suddenly found himself asking totally out of the blue. Chris, who had learned pretty quickly that Viktor’s mind tended to run away and that most of his complex trains of thought were never expressed aloud, leading to his mouth suddenly stating something that at times made sense and other times not at all, blinked and looked up at him.

Then, an amused smile stretched on his lips.

“That’s a good idea, actually.” He murmured, nodding thoughtfully. “I’ll ask him out tonight; maybe we could go to Hogsmeade together next week.”

Viktor stilled in his writing, looking up to gape at his friend.

“You’re kidding.”

“Not at all, darling.” Chris shrugged, giving him a wink. “We’ve been screwing around…”

“Please, keep the details to yourself.”

“…for about a year, but dating has never really crossed my mind.” He tilted his head. “Better ask him out, make sure he understands I want to be more than friends with benefits. He’s attending dance class; perfect opportunity.”

Sighing deeply, Viktor buried his face in his hands, “You’re an idiot.”

“You’re an airhead.”

The _worst_ part was that he was right.

 

About an hour later, Viktor and Chris put their homework away in favor of pulling out practice clothes for dance class. As Viktor hadn’t been sure if there was a dance class at Hogwarts or not when he arrived, he had sent a letter to his parents on September 2nd, asking them to send some more of his training attire than he had thought to take with him.

Ludmila had sent him his entire wardrobe.

“What am I preparing for?” he asked Chris, looking at his spread-out clothes on his bed, dressed solely in boxer briefs for the time being while he pondered.

“They usually split us up in two groups the first time around.” Chris explained helpfully, pulling on a pair of dark purple tights. “Professor Baranovskaya handles the beginners, and Okukawa tests our skills by going through a variety of styles to see what she has to work with.”

Viktor worried his bottom lip, “So something that goes with a lot of different styles.”

“Definitely.” Chris confirmed, picking up a pair of midnight blue tights from the bed and tossing them to Viktor. “Those will do nicely, and I see you have a matching shirt right there.” Then, his eyes landed on the chair beside Viktor’s bed, eyes widening slightly. “Are those Apassionato-shoes?”

The Russian beamed at him, “Yeah!” he grinned, picking one up and handing it to Chris, who looked like he had been handed a fragile crystal vase, accepting the footwear with delicate hands, “Mama bought me a new pair last year when the old ones didn’t fit any longer after my growth spurt. They are The Best.”

“And the most expensive.” Chris promptly commented, but there was an impressed glimmer in his eyes. “I’ve never seen Apassionato-shoes up close. Comfortable?”

“You never even notice them change shape.” Viktor promised, accepting the slender, black shoe back. “They go from flats to heels in a heartbeat, and you barely notice you’re suddenly taller.”

Chris laughed, pulling an oversized shirt over his tight tank top, “And here I’m still waltzing around in regular old Rhapsodies. I’m definitely going to save up for a pair of Apassionatos, though.”

Viktor suddenly knew exactly what to get his best friend for Christmas, but said nothing.

He had known Chris only for a couple of weeks, but during that time, he had gotten to know him surprisingly well, and hence, he knew Chris had a dream of pursuing a career in showbusiness. He also knew that the Swiss had set his eyes on L'Académie Sorcière de la Danse in France, one of only four dancing academies in the entire wizarding world.

And since that actually was what he wanted to do with his life, then he really needed (and deserved) a pair of fantastic shoes.

“Ready?” Chris asked, grinning amusedly. Viktor snapped out of his thoughts and gulped down a nervous lump in his throat as he nodded. He quickly pulled on his second legwarmer and a large, coral sweater before grabbing his bag (shoes included) and followed his friend out the door.

Dance class was already feeling a little too interesting for comfort. Viktor absolutely couldn’t wait.

 

The Dance Room, as it was called, was located on the sixth floor, right behind the corner from the Room of Rewards Chris had dragged him to the day before. Viktor’s heart had by now settled somewhere close to his throat, threatening to jump out of his ribcage at any given moment, the mokeskin knot making a comeback with a vengeance in his stomach.

Chris opened the door and Viktor willed his breathing to stay steady and his heart not to go into cardiac arrest as he stepped in right behind his friend.

Hogwarts kept surprising him time and time again, and the Dance Room was no exception. It was much larger than it should have been able to be, obviously enlarged with magic, with a high ceiling, stone walls covered in mirrors with barres attached, and a floor in warm, reddish brown wood that felt absolutely perfect under Viktor’s feet. The space was lit up by an impressive chandelier that even his mother would have approved of, and he got the sneaking suspicion that Lilia had something to do with it.

Viktor and Chris were a little early, but there were a few other students present already, and more kept dropping in through the door after them. He spotted Sara and her brother Michele together with Mila (whom he only after their first Hogsmeade visit realized was actually a sixth year as well and attended several classes with him) and a Hufflepuff he recognized as Emil Nekola, another sixth year. He also recognized a few fellow Ravenclaws, like Hilary’s friends Becky Arncliffe and Swati Pewekar, conversing with a couple of Hufflepuff girls of which he recognized one as Satinder Singh, the Indian girl that had been sorted along with him a couple of weeks back. She gave him a shy smile and a wave as she spotted him, and Viktor found himself almost absentmindedly waving back.

The thing was, he had suddenly become a little distracted. Or a lot. He desperately tried to tear his gaze away, but found it to be impossible.

Yuuri Katsuki must have been literally made of magic, completely able to glue Viktor’s eyes to him with a Permanent Sticking Charm without even trying.

The Gryffindor of Viktor’s dreams was standing by the opposite wall, one hand on the barre and one leg pointing straight towards the ceiling in a standing split, talking to the two dance professors without breaking a sweat. And seeing him like that, Viktor suddenly knew _very well_ what Phichit Chulanont had meant when he said that Yuuri-in-tights should have been deemed illegal within Hogwarts’ walls.

In fact, Yuuri-in-tights should have been illegal in every corner of the known world.

Because those _thighs_ …

Viktor heard himself gulp audibly, quickly clutching a hand over his mouth to cover it up as a cough. It was well visible that Yuuri’s thighs had been clinging hard onto a broomstick for years, and apparently also around dancing poles, if he had heard correctly back at The Three Broomsticks the previous week.

The Gryffindor might have looked soft, but seeing him in tights and a loose t-shirt, there was no hiding the fact that he was an athlete. As in: he was ripped.

And his ass looked like a damn _peach_.

Viktor cursed Merlin into oblivion inwardly.

It was only then that he noticed his best friend was clutching his stomach in barely suppressed laughter, absolutely living off Viktor’s misery.

“ _Mon dieu_ ,” Chris almost wheezed, “you look like you’ve swallowed an entire bag of Pepper Imps!”

Meaning his cheeks were burning up.

“You could have warned me!” he hissed under his breath while Chris continued to die of laughter.

“I thought Chulanont already did.”

Viktor was about to retort with some not-too-well-considered words when there was a firm tap on his shoulder. He swallowed the reply and spun around instead to find himself face to face with a blond boy glaring up at him through strikingly green eyes.

He looked like an angry cat… or kitten.

He also looked… Russian.

“Yes?” Viktor found himself saying anyway, not taking the risk of asking “da?” and sounding rude if the boy didn’t know Russian after all. The blond scowled.

“I’ll kick your ass.” He informed Viktor in a gruff tone.

Viktor blinked, fighting an amused grin off his face, tilting his head. The boy’s aggressive attitude was adorable.

“Okay.” He humored the kid, not sure how old the boy could be. Third, fourth or fifth year all seemed likely. “When and where?”

“On the Quidditch field in February, stupid.” The boy huffed, crossing his arms, looking up at Viktor defiantly. “I’m going to grab the Snitch right in front of your ugly face.”

“Ah,” the puzzle pieces finally fell into place in Viktor’s head, and he grinned down at the kid. He was face to face with the Slytherin Seeker, “you’re Yuri Plisetsky.”

The angry kitten hissed at him, but didn’t have time to say anything else, because Lilia’s sharp voice interrupted every conversation in the room with a simple:

“Beginners to the left, the rest of you to the right; hurry up!”

Viktor quickly placed his bag besides Chris’ and joined him and Louis, who had showed up at the very last second, on the right-hand side of the room, facing Lilia and Professor Okukawa.

And Yuuri.

The Gryffindor remained right where he was, together with the teachers, hair pushed back and glasses removed from his nose for the time being. Viktor felt the mokeskin knot in his stomach settle heavily in his gut, churning unpleasantly.

If Yuuri was going to _watch_ …

He gave Chris a look of panic. The grin he received in return was entirely not helpful.

“Welcome to dance class,” Lilia said sternly, arms crossed over her chest, posture impeccable as she examined the students before her, “it’s good to see so many of you here, to see such an interest for an EC that prior to the Second Wizarding War wasn’t even available on the Hogwarts curriculum.” She nodded to Professor Okukawa, who took over.

“Professor Baranovskaya and I will be your teachers for this class, and as you have once again grown in numbers, we have asked our long-term student, Mr. Katsuki here, for help once again.” She nodded towards the Gryffindor in question, and Viktor had an internal panic attack, hoping it wasn’t visible on his face.

But Yuuri had said he was going to help with the newcomers, right?

“We originally asked him to help with the beginners’ class,” Okukawa continued, and there and then, Viktor knew he was doomed, “but as there are more advanced students than beginners this year, he will be helping me out instead, unlike last year.” _I’m going to die_. “Hence, this is how it’s going to go: the beginners will have classes with Lilia in the other room for now, and after Christmas, those who she deems ready will joined the advanced group with myself and Mr. Katsuki.”

“What are you waiting for?” Lilia asked the beginners, tilting her head towards the door behind her, “This way, we haven’t got all day.”

With the (bewildered and slightly frightened) beginners gone, the rest of the class spread out more evenly on the enormous dance floor, facing the teacher and her assistant, awaiting further instructions. Viktor’s eyes involuntarily sought Yuuri out, his heart skipping at least two beats as he found the Gryffindor looking back.

The smugness in his small smile was barely visible, making Viktor’s pulse quicken to alarming rates.

“Many of you already know what comes next,” Professor Okukawa went on, completely unaware of all terrible things her assistant was doing to Viktor with his gaze alone, “but for those of you who don’t, allow me to briefly explain, and while I do,” she nodded to Yuuri, “you will do warm-ups by following Mr. Katsuki’s lead. Take some space.”

_Oh, Merlin, no…!_

Warm-up was terrible.

Viktor could neither hear nor remember a single word Professor Okukawa uttered, because he was _forced_ to look at the one person he really should avoid looking at presently. He really had to use every ounce of willpower in his being to be able to focus on actually doing the movements himself and not just stare at Yuuri.

As if that wasn’t enough, it got worse: Yuuri would also be leading the dance test that would give Professor Okukawa a picture of how good they were and where improvement was going to be needed. Viktor was quite certain he would be sent to join the beginners’ class with Lilia before the end of the class, as there was no possibility whatsoever that he was going to survive the following hour.

It took an enormous amount of self-control on Viktor’s behalf _not_ to get distracted by the deliciousness that was Yuuri Katsuki in tights and a tank-top (he had discarded the loose t-shirt) while demonstrating that he _did_ know the five basic ballet positions and _could_ actually execute them to perfection. He also managed to survive the renaissance dance-part that followed, grateful that Madame Sharova had insisted on teaching him galliarde, courante, tourdion, and the like, alongside his ballet training.

Irish dancing was a new acquaintance, however, and Viktor had to mentally slap himself hard to stay focused and replicate the steps and the movements. Flamenco was also unfamiliar territory, and he willed himself to look more at Yuuri’s enticingly twirling hands rather than at what he was doing from the waist down. All he knew was that there was something androgynous about the way the Gryffindor moved, and found it all kinds of _nice to know_.

And then, Professor Okukawa switched to belly-dancing, and Viktor was forced to not only look at Yuuri’s hands, but also at his middle. And below.

Bad, bad, bad, bad, _very bad_.

Or it could have been, but to his enormous relief, Viktor found he was more enticed by the energy radiating from the Gryffindor than by his mouthwatering curves (he had _curves_ ).

When Yuuri danced, it was as if the music was coming from his body; like it was being created by his will and not something coming out of the enormous gramophone in the corner. He was completely in control of himself, executing every movement with precision and perfection, easily transitioning between styles.

 _Amazing_.

“All right, well done!” Professor Okukawa called out as the belly-dancing music changed into a soft piano tune, and Viktor could have kissed her, because his lungs were screaming for oxygen and his body felt numb and hot all over, silver strands sticking to his forehead as salty beads of sweat trickled down his brow, “Time for cooldowns; stretch properly, remember all muscles.” She then motioned for Yuuri to come over to her, and he started stretching while she spoke to him in a lower tone.

Viktor complied along with everyone else, opting to start by simply closing his eyes and breathe for a moment, attempting to feel every part of his body from toe to head (in that order) so he could determine which parts needed the most attention. He then started with his arms, deciding to work downwards at a careful pace, as he didn’t want to lower his still pounding head yet. He might have fallen over if he did.

About ten minutes later, he finally felt ready to sit down on the floor, legs straight in front of him, leaning down to grab hold of his toes, counting to thirty. That done, he spread his legs wide and reached for his right foot, then the left, and then carefully lowered his upper body a little towards the floor, breathing deeply, feeling the oxygen rush to his muscles and soothe them enough to lower his body just a little more.

He was about to do it a third time when he felt a light pressure on his lower back, gently pushing just a little more down than he had intended to go.

Viktor was very, very glad he was essentially lying on the floor already, because the unexpected touch made his body go rigid, breath hitching in his throat as he realized it wasn’t Chris helping him out. His heartrate shot through the roof as a steady body leaned over him, a soft voice he had only ever heard directed to other people speaking low and calm all too close to his ear:

“You’re probably aware of this, but try to keep your back straight when leaning down.”

Viktor sincerely hoped Yuuri couldn’t physically feel the embarrassingly pleasant shudder traveling up his spine as he continued: “If you feel sore in your lower back, maybe try easing that away with some yoga-positions first, okay?”

Viktor was definitely _not_ okay.

“J-just a little tired.” He managed to reply, breathless. Yuuri hummed in understanding.

“All right.” He murmured, the tone of his voice and his proximity sending Viktor’s head reeling, making him feel pleasantly faint. If that was even possible. “Lower?”

Viktor inhaled as much oxygen as his lungs would allow before nodding. While the Gryffindor definitely was very distracting behind him, there really was no part of him that wanted Yuuri to let go.

He swore Yuuri’s thumbs were gently massaging his lower back, movements so small they were barely there, “You sure?”

_Oh, Merlin…_

“Yes.” He heard his own mouth form the word, but all his focus was on the firm, steady, _warm_ hands on his lower back that were definitely doing _something_ even though it probably looked like they weren’t doing _anything_.

“Breathe.” Yuuri instructed, all too close and not close enough, and Viktor complied immediately, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, and as he did the latter, he felt the hands on his back press down just a little more. He was almost flat on his stomach now, leaning on his elbows, resting his forehead against his joined hands.

Another shudder ran involuntarily up his spine as Yuuri hummed again, sounding… what? Smug? Intrigued?

… _pleased?_

“Better.” He murmured, having Viktor fight back a whimper, because his vivid imagination was being terribly unhelpful, and the smug smile on Yuuri’s lips that he could barely make out in the corner of his eye was making it worse. “Take it easy on the way up, and remember to take care of your lower back.”

Viktor could have sworn Yuuri’s hands gripped him a little tighter for a fraction of a second before he let go and stood up, walking away to possibly aid someone else.

He did as told in a complete daze, sitting up on his knees and bending his upper body down, relaxing his lower back.

Viktor barely registered that Professor Okukawa told them she would be testing their couple dancing skills the following week. Yes, everyone had to both lead and follow, no excuses, she said. Maybe. He also barely registered that Yuri Plisetsky glared daggers into his face before stalking out the door immediately when class was over.

He did, however, register that when he once again found himself staring, Yuuri turned his head to meet Viktor’s gaze. The Gryffindor’s eyes twinkled curiously, the smug smile once again settling on his lips and setting Viktor’s heart on fire, his stomach filling up to the brim with madly fluttering butterflies.

And it was then that Viktor realized Yuuri really was right in front of him and not on the other side of the room.

He hoped his brilliantly heated cheeks would pass as a work-out blush and nothing else.

Yuuri gave up the smallest chuckle of amusement, placing his bag over his shoulder as he headed towards the door.

“See you around, Viktor.” He said as he passed the Russian, smooth and easy, throwing him a wink for good measure before exiting the Dance Room.

The end result was that Viktor wanted to die of embarrassment, while Chris wanted to die of happiness. Louis had namely told him yes.

Thank Merlin for that, Viktor thought as he listened to his friend excitedly gush about it back in their dorm the rest of the evening. That gave himself something else to think about other than a pair of warm, steady hands on his lower back, gently and firmly keeping him down. Still, he cursed Lilia and Okukawa for apparently changing plans at the last second and having Yuuri help with the advanced class instead of the beginners.

Although, really, _honestly_ , he might have wanted to gift them with enormous flower bouquets in gratitude. Maybe. He still cursed them.

Because while Chris managed to distract him the whole evening, and Viktor eagerly let himself _be_ distracted as well, there was no escaping his own imagination and vivid memories any longer as he slid under the covers a few hours later.

_Lower?_

_You sure?_

_Breathe._

Viktor whimpered involuntarily into the pillow, hoping his dormmates were all asleep, or thought he was dreaming.

_See you around, Viktor._

Yuuri wouldn’t have needed both hands.

Viktor was hopelessly wound around his finger anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The devil prompt maker asked for interaction within the five first chapters, so they're now getting some in number four. You're welcome.
> 
> At this point, I should bring up my summer updating schedule :)
> 
> I should be able to upload the following chapter before I head off to the archipelago (no, I'm not taking my precious computer with me for a boat ride, not happening) on Friday, and the same should apply for the chapter after that (even though I'll be practicing dance pretty much every single day), as I head out again the following week, again on Friday through Sunday.
> 
> Then, we're hosting a ginormous dance and music festival in my hometown and I'm kind of very involved in it, so I can't promise a chapter at all during the last week of July. If I somehow manage to get it edited before the madness starts, I might be able to upload it some evening (if I'm still alive), but otherwise there will be a small gap in the updating schedule. And the thing with me is that after a week of no rest, I need a ridiculously long recovery time, and I have no control over it (I have a disorder that sees to it that it feels like I'm swimming through jelly at all times... May 12th, blue ribbon, thankfully I have a mild version). So if I "disappear" for a little while after that last week in July, it's not because I'm leaving this story or anything else hanging, but because I'm most likely incapable of movement and coherent thoughts.
> 
> Thank you all so much for continuous support and heartwarming comments - I hope I can continue to deliver even though my health isn't helping me do anything at the moment, because if there's one thing I take joy in doing even when my head is buzzing with brain fog and my fingers ache from tapping on the keyboard, it's putting imagination into words. Writing in English helps my brain immensely, even if it tires me out faster than if I write in Swedish, but this really is the best sort of therapy I've found so far, and really, it's absolutely and wonderfully amazing to share it with all of you and not keep it all in the confinements of computer files and desk drawers.
> 
> And before I get too emotional in the middle of the night... Thank you <3 for the help you may not even realize you're giving. I do hope you enjoyed the chapter despite the fact that I might not have been in the best of headspaces while editing it. Many hugs!


	5. On Top of the Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> October has arrived with rain and cold, but while the weather is miserable, Viktor is still intent on smiling. His suddenly restricted visiting times to Hogsmeade will absolutely not bring his mood down, and neither will Sara's grueling Qudditch practice.
> 
> And a run-in with a certain Gryffindor might just turn his day a little brighter, still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editing went a little more clear-headed this time around. Please enjoy!

October brought with it more damp and chillier weather, making the indoors seem like a very nice place to be and Quidditch practice… not so much. Care of Magical Creatures was also a bit of a bother during stormier days, but thankfully, the first Tuesday of October didn’t bring any harsh winds or beating rain, but merely a light drizzle.

Viktor cast a second Impervius-charm on his hooded cloak in an effort to keep himself as dry as possible while attempting to carefully remove the tentacle-like growth on his murtlap’s back without it freaking out about his ministrations (he would prefer to keep all of his fingers attached to his hands, or catching the Snitch would become more of a challenge than it needed to be). He was almost done, distracting the creature with another woodlouse while keeping his tongue between his teeth in concentration, pulling off the last of the gelatinous growth and placing it in the glass jar he had been given to harvest it in.

Letting out a small sigh of relief, he raised his hand in the air to show he was done.

“Ah, Viktor,” Professor Hagrid rumbled warmly once he noticed, coming over to have a look, “done already, ey?”

“Yes, professor.” Viktor confirmed, grinning up at the half-giant.

He earned a hearty chuckle in response, “Well, let’s ‘ave a look at the li’l bugger, then.”

Viktor stepped aside from his work station (a stump by the edge of the Forbidden Forest) so Hagrid could examine the murtlap and the harvested growth. He had quickly come to like the enormous man and his seemingly endless source of positive energy, and also the ease with which he had become familiar with the small group of sixth years he teached, calling everyone by their first name and telling them he didn’t mind if they dropped “professor” and just called him Hagrid instead.

And, well, with a N.E.W.T.:s-level class consisting of only four students, such familiarity was very good and welcome, Viktor figured.

Apart from himself, there was Madeline Orskirk from Hufflepuff, the only girl in the group, fearless yet respectful in her approach to all the creatures so far. She had been the only one allowed to pet the stunningly beautiful unicorn Hagrid had shown them a couple of weeks back, and Viktor might have been a little jealous until the professor had assured them he would show them a mother and her foal in the spring, and that the boys would then also be allowed to pet the foal.

And then there were two Gryffindors: Ryan Henry, who apparently had been denied to bring his pet jarvey with him to Hogwarts due to its habit of letting out long strings of profanities (and also due to the fear that it would do devastating damage in the greenhouses), and Otabek Altin, Keeper on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, who was usually stoic and reserved. Viktor had managed to have a few conversations with him, and through those, he had learned that Otabek was from Kazakhstan, had a soft spot for cats and kneazels, and also that he by some miracle had managed to befriend Yuri Plisetsky, of all people.

It was also that way Viktor learned that the Slytherin Seeker owned a kneazel the size of a small tiger, which perhaps shouldn’t have been surprising given the fact that the boy himself behaved like an angry little kitten.

Otabek advised him not to tell Plisetsky that.

An approving hum from Hagrid brought Viktor back to the present.

“Cleanly removed growth, an’ the skin beneath’s a healthy pink.” The professor concluded, looking unmistakably pleased. Viktor’s grin reached his ears. “Well done, lad, that’s five points ta Ravenclaw. Now,” he pulled out a small vial from his enormous coat and handed it to his student, “rub this onto its back an’ place it back inte the bucket o’er there, a’ight? Lessee… write two or so feet ‘bout the qualities an’ uses of murtlap growth till next time, yeah?” He patted Viktor’s shoulder heartily, making the Russian almost wince at the force of the impact, but the bright grin still won over on his face. “Yer free ta go when yer done.”

Murtlap cared for and safely placed back underwater, Viktor waved goodbye to the others, being the first one to finish the task, and headed back up to the castle. Since he had been quite quick, he figured he would still have time to write a reply to his parents’ letter before Quidditch practice. However, he _wouldn’t_ have time to send it, so that would have to wait. Probably until morning.

The first month at Hogwarts had gone by faster than Viktor could say “Quidditch”, and somehow, he was still standing. Well, actually, it was probably more impressive that he was still _smiling_.

Classes were getting increasingly demanding (he was well aware that murtlaps were a kind of breather that Hagrid allowed them before bringing in something more… interesting again), and homework had really started to pile up, leaving Viktor knee-deep in work. Especially Yakov, Lilia, and Professor Okukawa seemed intent on making all of them study hard in their “spare time”, and neither Professor Flitwick nor Professor Cialdini were holding back, either. Hagrid, though, didn’t appear too keen on reading multiple pages of writing, and preferred to have the students do most of the work during class instead, which was highly appreciated.

Dancing and Quidditch were also taking up space in Viktor’s schedule, and while he had liked the unofficial Charms Club that he had attended a couple of times in September together with Chris, he had decided to skip that in exchange for his sanity (he was still unsure how Chris managed, but then again, he didn’t attend every time, either). Sara had worked the Ravenclaw Quidditch team to their bones every Tuesday, and while it was an absolute nuisance to practice in the beating rain, it still felt exceedingly satisfying every time Viktor managed to nail a complex maneuver (he was intent on perfecting his Wronski Feint before the year came to an end), or managed to catch the barely-visible Snitch.

And the dancing… oh, Merlin. Viktor’s heartrate sped up whenever he thought about dance class, and his skin tingled in ready-to-burst anticipation every Thursday after DADA-lessons.

The week after Yuuri Katsuki had managed to Stupefy his brain by, uh, _helping_ him stretch, they had been tested on their ballroom dancing skills, and he had ended up partnered with Mila Babicheva, since Chris and Louis had confessed their undying arou-, _cough!_ , love and devotion for each other and finally started dating, and hence wished to dance together. Mila had turned out to be excellent at both leading and following, so Viktor had been more than thankful that he got to dance with her.

He had actually contemplated making a mistake on purpose just so Yuuri would come over and correct him, preferably hands-on, but managed to restrain himself and actually do well.

The following lesson, however, had shown that Viktor didn’t _need_ to make mistakes to gain Yuuri’s attention. His brain had been cooked to mush because of it, but it really had become a… _fond_ memory to replay every night before falling asleep. Or while staring into the flames in the fireplace on rainy afternoons.

Or whenever Viktor spaced out, which was more often than he would like to admit. Not that he could bring himself to be embarrassed about it or anything.

They had been practicing pas de deux; classical ballet and couple dancing all in one, which was perfect for a group that Professor Okukawa had decided could use some training on both. They had been honing on a variety of elements, among them penchés, which in pas de deux included the danseur supporting the ballerina (or, in Okukawa’s terms, the leader supporting the follower) in various arabesques. The professor had then for some reason decided that Yuuri should demonstrate a correctly supported 180-degree penché with one of the students, and to Viktor’s absolute joy and horror, the Gryffindor had walked over to _him_ like it was the most obvious choice in the world.

“I know you’re flexible enough.” He had reasoned close to Viktor’s ear while Professor Okukawa had been busy explaining what exactly they were doing, and Viktor’s heart had taken the opportunity to hammer its way through his ribcage and rumble away on a rampaging erumpent.

Still, Yuuri’s hands were firm and _warm_ on his waist, and somehow, his body had understood to lean forward to extend his leg and stretch it straight up in the air, performing the penché a little more slowly than he would have done normally. Internally, he wished the professor would never stop talking, just so he could stay with Yuuri’s hands snug right above his hips for a little longer.

Forever sounded like an appealing alternative.

He really couldn’t wait for Thursday to arrive. They would be practicing renaissance dancing, and he was very much hoping that there would be a reason, _any_ reason, for Yuuri to touch him. Maybe even dance with him. He had only seen the Gryffindor dance alone and with Professor Okukawa so far (the penché didn’t count), and he was terribly curious to find out what it would _feel_ like to follow Yuuri’s lead.

Due to dance class, Viktor’s dreams had also come to significantly consist more and more of images of him and Yuuri dancing together, and they were even more vivid due to the fact that he now knew what it looked like when the Gryffindor danced. Well, and also because he knew what his hands felt like on Viktor’s middle.

Such distractions were especially welcome in the wake of the letter he had received from his parents with the morning mail. While it had contained many reassuring words, it had also brought with it the first sign so far that everything wasn’t a dance on roses. A clear indication that something wasn’t as it should be.

Viktor’s Hogsmeade visits would henceforth be limited.

He would still be allowed to visit the village, but only on visiting weekend Saturdays between midday and dinner, which more or less marked the time most teachers reserved as their own visiting hours.

While the regulation had been a sharp wake-up call that had reality crushing down on Viktor like a sack of bricks, he had still stubbornly decided to heed his parents’ advice and not let it bring him down. Even if he couldn’t choose exactly _when_ to visit the wizard village any longer, he would make the most of those weekends.

His long train of jumbled thoughts came to a halt when he entered his dorm in the Ravenclaw Tower, finding his housemates Nathaniel and Sherwood seated by the table beside the window, quills in their hands and unfinished essays spread out before them.

“Hi, Viktor!” Nate greeted him, looking up, while Sherwood waved, “You sure don’t look like you’ve been spending the past hour out in the rain.”

Sherwood whacked his best friend in the head lightly with a roll of parchment, “That’s because his Impervius charm is next-level strong. Remember that you’re talking to the only guy in our entire _year_ that has been able to master nonverbal spells so far; you’re sounding way too surprised.”

“You’re making me blush.” Viktor mock pouted at his Quidditch teammate, but couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “And for the record, I do prefer to stay as dry as possible.”

“Speaking of nonverbal spells, though,” Nate continued after having sufficiently glared at his best friend, “have you got any tips on those? How to practice them, I mean?”

Viktor hummed thoughtfully, placing his cloak over the chair beside his bed and his bag atop the covers, sitting down to twirl a strand of hair around his index finger absentmindedly.

“Papa’s advice was that you should practice them whenever you _need_ to perform a spell, you know? Like, when you’re all cuddled up on the couch and really want a book lying on the opposite side of the room, you can try using the summoning charm nonverbally, and when your quill snaps, you try a nonverbal mending charm; small things like that. It helps when moving on to more complex stuff.” He shrugged lightly, offering Nate a smile. “I don’t really know what else to say; it just requires a lot of concentration and focus.”

“Should be right up your alley, mate.” Sherwood grinned at friend. “Mr. King of Exploding Snap.”

“He’s telling me I’m losing my touch.” Nate sheepishly translated for Viktor. “Thanks though, mate; maybe I’ll get the hang of it before Christmas.”

Sherwood barked out a laugh, “That’s about the time it took Katsuki to master the Patronus-charm nonverbally last year.” He reminded Nate. “I don’t know anyone else in this school apart from the teachers that can do that.”

“I’m _not_ going to compare myself to Katsuki for even half a second.” Nate was quick to protest.

“What form does his Patronus take?” Viktor found himself asking, silently awestruck by the revelation. Thanks to his father’s patience and good sense of teaching, he was perfectly capable of summoning a corporeal Patronus, but he was nowhere near close to being able to master the charm nonverbally.

His question made his dormmates pause, their expressions turning puzzled and contemplating.

“No idea, actually.” Nate replied slowly, furrowing his brows. “I know he got bonus points during his O.W.L.:s for summoning a corporeal Patronus, but I can’t remember having heard what shape it takes.”

“Probably something awesome.” Sherwood guessed. “Like a dragon or something.”

Somehow, Viktor wasn’t too sure about that, even though he could easily picture Yuuri Katsuki with a dragon Patronus. Still, many amazing witches and wizards had records of having pretty ordinary and even underwhelming Patronuses, so it really could be either way.

Case in point, the great Ilia Nikiforov’s Patronus too the form of a sheep.

“Oh, well,” Viktor shrugged, as if he wasn’t morbidly curious about the topic, pulling out a fresh piece of parchment, a quill and a vial of ink from his bag to write his parents a letter, “maybe we’ll find out at some point.”

 

Chris made it back to the dorm to join the study session for a little while right after his Muggle Studies-class had ended, and then, it was already time for Quidditch practice. Viktor, Sherwood and the Swiss took their brooms and Quidditch robes and headed down to the pitch, accompanied by Louis who appeared out of nowhere to walk hand in hand with his boyfriend. Rain was still drizzling softly from the darkening sky, but fortunately, it wasn’t too windy, and the water droplets were more light and refreshing than heavy and miserable.

Sara, once again, wasn’t holding back, shouting out orders left and right, driving them to their limits and beyond.

“The weather isn’t going to get any better from here on before maybe our last game against Gryffindor in May, so you’d better just enjoy this while it lasts!” she mercilessly reasoned with them, “Come on, Flobberworms; let’s do this!”

Pausing to wipe some unruly hair from his brow, Viktor released the practice Snitch again, taking the time to do a Spiral Dive and fly back up to have another go at a Wronski Feint (he could perfectly do a one-eighty turn and shoot back up, but he wanted to get at least a meter closer to the ground, still), before starting to look for the tiny golden ball all over again, having given it a head-start.

It took him approximately five minutes, possibly ten, to locate the glimmering orb just a few meters beneath Seung-Gil’s position in front of the goal posts. He decisively dove straight for it, caught it, and then flew upwards again to release it once more, doing the Spiral Dive and Wronski Feint again before starting to look. Wash, rinse, repeat. Add a Sloth Grip Roll clockwise and counterclockwise to stay warm.

When he located the Snitch for the millionth time that late afternoon-turned-evening, hovering close to Sara’s elbow, he sped straight towards it, careful not to steer too close to Sara so he would ram into her on accident. He reached out his hand towards the fleeing little ball…

…only to abruptly come to a halt mid-flight when a flash of red zoomed straight upwards and grabbed the Snitch right in front of his nose.

“Sorry!” Phichit Chulanont apologetically called down to Viktor, flashing him a sun-bright smile, “Captain’s orders!”

“Liar.” Yuuri told his Seeker, halting in the air beside Sara and Viktor. “I distinctly remember telling you and everyone else to ‘get going.’”

“Telling that to a Seeker translates to ‘catch the Snitch’, Yuuri-kun.” Phichit informed him, completely unapologetic. Yuuri rolled his eyes and turned to the two Ravenclaws.

“I apologize on behalf of my former Seeker…”

“Oi!” Phichit shouted in mock hurt, clutching his chest dramatically, but Yuuri ignored him.

“…and also for interrupting your practice like this.” He offered a dumbstruck Sara an apologetic smile. “But you’re fifteen minutes on overtime, and I’ve booked the court for Gryffindor for the upcoming hour and a half. I was waiting for you to wrap up, before I figured you had lost track of time.”

Sara’s eyes widened, snapping down to look at her watch. Her jaw dropped in shock.

“I’m so, so sorry!” she gasped, cheeks heating up in embarrassment, as if they weren’t red enough from exertion already, “The pitch is all yours, of course, I really didn’t notice…!”

Yuuri chuckled good-naturedly and waved it off, “It’s okay; I know no one usually practices after you on Tuesdays, but we rescheduled our usual Monday training till today in favor of having Tanner back in good health from the Hospital Wing. Still,” he tilted his head, “we really need that practice time, so I’m afraid I have to ask you to wrap up. Do you want to do cooldowns around the pitch?”

“No, not at all, it’s all right.” Sara quickly assured him, the Gryffindor team having started doing warm ups on the other side of the pitch and the Ravenclaws having gathered closer to her, Yuuri and Viktor to hear what was going on. “We’ll just do a few laps around the goal posts here and then leave. I’m terribly sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Yuuri insisted. “Then again, I really am sorry about Phichit’s abrupt interruption,” the apology was directed to Viktor, who suddenly realized he hadn’t moved from his spot since he had to break, and that Yuuri was… quite close, “he likes to make an entrance, so to speak.”

Viktor managed a small, all too nervous laugh, “I-it’s okay! I was just… a little surprised, is all.”

Yuuri chuckled, “Clearly.” He caught the Quaffle from Chris and tucked it under his arm to accept the Beater bats from Louis and Sherwood. “We’ll be back to our normal schedule from next week onward, unless anything unexpected comes up.” Viktor swore that the charming smile was directed at him, but it might have been wishful thinking. “See you around!”

With that, he looped backwards and sped off towards the other half of the pitch, throwing the Beater bats to Tanner van Brum and Sara’s twin brother before passing the Quaffle to Mila. Viktor vaguely registered Sara telling them to do some quick cooldowns around the goal posts, his eyes involuntarily glued to the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain that was seemingly dancing in the air on a broom model he didn’t recognize. Probably Japanese.

Yuuri moved swiftly and easily, just like on the dancefloor, catching the Quaffle upside down from Kenjirou and zooming into the scoring area, somehow managing to narrowly avert Otabek and throw the big red ball through the middle loop. And there and then, somewhere in the back of Viktor’s ever curious mind, yet another question popped up:

_Why isn’t he Seeker?_

“Viktor!” Chris called out from the other side of the goal posts, “You coming?”

The Russian groaned inwardly. He had managed to embarrass himself. _Again_.

“Yeah!” he shouted back, quickly zooming down towards the pitch entrance and the dressing rooms. He would hate himself later for forgetting the cooldowns, but maybe it had been worth it. Seeing Yuuri fly was something he had wanted to experience ever since he learned that the gorgeous Gryffindor could handle a broom (and Chris was having way too much fun teasing him _that_ ), and he wouldn’t have minded to stay and watch for just a little longer.

…even though that probably wouldn’t be taken too well by the Gryffindor team, coming to think of it.

“Merlin, how embarrassing!” Sara worried, still looking shaken when Viktor and Chris joined the rest of the team in the dressing room, “I _knew_ he had booked the pitch and _still_ didn’t manage to keep track of time. I must’ve looked like a complete idiot.”

“It happens to anyone.” Louis reminded her, changing back to his regular shoes. “It’s not like anyone else of us noticed, either; and Katsuki didn’t exactly seem mad or anything.”

“No, he was a perfect gentleman about it.” Sara admitted, pulling her fingers through her hair with a sigh.

“It isn’t Katsuki that our captain is afraid of making a fool of herself in front of.” Hilary grinned knowingly, tilting her head innocently. Sara flushed up to her ears.

“I didn’t hear that, and neither did anyone else.” She decided, walking over to the chalk board. “Now, shut up and listen.”

The groaning in the dressing room was instant and simultaneous, but she ignored the noise of misery completely, freely handing out feedback for their performances instead. Thankfully, she started with Viktor, who got mostly praise, which meant he could then zone out while she continued with Seung-Gil and the others.

He had felt it, when he left the pitch. The burning at the back of his neck. The warm weight of Yuuri’s gaze on his skin.

Viktor dearly hoped he hadn’t been imagining it.

Realization then dawned on him like a bolt of lightning from an open sky, and he quickly tilted his head forward in hope to cover his blazing cheeks with his damp hair, barely catching a gasp before it escaped his lips, covering it up as a silent sneeze.

_I want him to look at me_.

 

**

 

The following morning, Viktor got up long before his dormmates even had thought of pulling themselves out of their dream worlds and got dressed, slipping into his school robes and carefully adjusting his blue-and-bronze tie before pulling his hair up into a ponytail as per habit. He then placed his cloak over his shoulders and grabbed the letter to his parents, placing it inside his robes before heading down the stairs and exiting the Ravenclaw common room, steering his steps towards the West Tower and the owlery.

A shiver went up his spine and Viktor pulled the cloak more tightly around himself as he began ascending the narrow, spiraling staircase towards the top. It was only the beginning of October, and while it was nowhere near as cold as Siberia during winter, it was still chilly and very damp, the school grounds covered in an almost dreamy layer of mist in the early morning. Viktor hoped to be alone in the birds’ nest, given the hour, wishing to admire the landscape in peace and quiet to sort out the unruly ball of yarn that was his thoughts.

Finally reaching the top, his not-properly-recovered legs were screaming at him from exertion, clearly not pleased about the fact that he had forgotten about cooldowns after practice the day before. Panting slightly, Viktor scanned the owlery.

Several owls were asleep along the high walls, having been out hunting all night long, snoozing with their heads tucked beneath their wings. Spotting a snow-white owl among all the grey and brown shouldn’t be too hard…

Ah.

“Sofiya,” Viktor called out softly as he located her, “ _ko mne_.”

The snowy owl blinked her eyes open, peering down at him with midnight black orbs. Then, she ruffled her feathers a little before spreading her wings wide and gliding down to him, landing on the offered, outstretched arm.

Viktor made sure to praise her plenty while affectionately petting her feathers, causing her to coo. She had apparently been out hunting in the dark of night, too, her nocturne adventures given away by the splotch of dried blood still stuck right beside her beak, and while that meant she probably hadn’t gotten much sleep, it also meant that she definitely would have the strength to fly to London. Fortunately.

Placing Sofiya down on the windowsill of the closest aperture, Viktor continued praising her in low, soft Russian while pulling out the letter to tie it around her outstretched leg. She nipped at the fingers on his free hand, showing that she definitely knew who the recipients were, just as he expected her to do.

What he didn’t expect, however, was the light sound of footsteps climbing the spiraling staircase at five past six in the morning. Viktor almost missed the noise completely, until a warm, gentle voice reached his ears:

“Good morning, Viktor.”

Said Ravenclaw stilled mid-movement, letter half-tied around Sofiya’s leg, hit by a full-body petrification spell and unable to move, breath catching short in his throat. The small gasp was entirely involuntary.

Part of him was about to have a heart-attack and die. Another part was much more excited than he maybe would have liked to admit.

Snapping out of his petrification, Viktor quickly turned his head in the direction of the voice, finding himself gazing at the perfection incarnate that was Yuuri Katsuki, impeccably dressed in his school robes with all badges in place, a letter in his hand and the smallest of smirks on his lips.

_…he had said something, hadn’t he?_

Oh, right.

“G-good morning.” Viktor managed to reply, almost without stuttering (he definitely stuttered). Almost without his voice going a pitch higher than usual (it was more like an octave above normal). He mentally hit himself hard with a broomstick, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

Yuuri’s deep, maroon eyes twinkled enticingly, and the smirk stretched out to settle into a smile.

A _smile_.

Not a smug one, either, but a pleasant, too beautiful thing for Viktor’s heart and sanity to handle. His insides instantly melted to fondue.

“Usually there’s no one here this early in the morning.” The Gryffindor spoke smoothly, shifting his gaze towards the owls along the wall, searching. “Well, except for myself, I suppose. Kasumi, _oide_.”

An eagle-owl that looked sturdy enough to fly halfway around the world without breaking a sweat flew down from high up on the wall and landed securely on the windowsill next to the one Sofiya had occupied, leg already stretched out to accept the letter. Yuuri petted the bird fondly, praising it softly in Japanese, and it was the latter that did all kinds of wonderfully terrible things to Viktor. Or rather, his body. And bodily functions.

Yuuri chuckled slightly as the owl nipped at his fingers.

“I would ask what brings you here so early on a Wednesday morning, but the answer to that is quite obvious.” He said, running his fingers through the soft feathers as he turned his attention back to Viktor. “Still, if I may be curious, why the early hour?”

Viktor felt his cheeks dust pink again as he attempted to finally finish tying the letter to Sofiya’s leg and somehow reply to Yuuri’s question simultaneously, which turned out to be a ridiculously arduous task.

“I, uh…” _come on, Nikiforov!_ , “…I just wanted to get this done before the owlery and the castle starts flooding with people.”

Something like that, at least.

Yuuri hummed understandingly, sending a pleasant shudder up Viktor’s spine with the sound, “Not to mention that the view from here at this time of day is something else, don’t you think?”

Yuuri was… making small talk?

Yes, he _was_ making small talk, and Viktor’s brain was running at a million miles a minute in an attempt to wrap itself around the realization, and also find its way to a reply. He struggled not to audibly gulp.

“Y-yeah.” It came out as an almost-squeak, much to his embarrassment. “Um…” _say something!_ , “…what about you?”

Stupid, _stupid!_ What kind of question was that to ask in response?

Yuuri, however, didn’t seem fazed in the slightest, giving up a small, good-natured laugh, “Same really; peace and quiet.” He offered Viktor an apologetic smile. “I might have ruined that for you, though.”

_Huh?_

Realizing what Yuuri had meant, Viktor shook his head borderline frantically, “N-not at all! It’s okay, really.”

Yuuri’s smile widened a fraction, “If you say so. _Yoshi_.”

The eagle-owl gave up a cooing sound before turning around, spreading its wings and flying into the morning mist after Sofiya, who had gotten impatient with her youngest master and decided to take flight immediately when he was _finally_ done tying the letter to her leg. Yuuri looked after the birds for a moment, while Viktor found himself looking at the Gryffindor instead.

Hence, he blushed a bright pink when dark, chocolate eyes turned to look at him once more, something akin to curiosity twinkling in the deep pools.

“You’re going to give Phichit a real run for his money, you know.” He tilted his head slightly, a smile playing on his lips. “I’ll have to look out for you on the Quidditch field. How long have you been playing?”

Viktor’s mind stilled for a moment.

The birds had flown. Yuuri was still there. Right there. Talking to him.

Talking _with_ him.

…how long had Viktor been playing Quidditch again?

“Oh, uh, about six years.” He replied quickly, perhaps a little too eagerly, but he could barely contain his excitement about the situation he found himself in, and had no restraint for anything else. He was having a conversation with _Yuuri freaking Katsuki_ , who was willingly paying attention to _him_. “I’ve danced longer, though.”

The corner of Yuuri’s mouth twitched, “Obviously.” He agreed, never looking away, and Viktor might have liked that a little too much. “Ballet?”

Viktor nodded, trying to ignore the fact that he probably looked and behaved like a nervous and terribly excited puppy, “Yeah. With Lilia, actually.”

Yuuri blinked, eyes widening as if in realization. Then, he let out the most heart-melting laugh in the history of Merlin’s beard, much to the Russian’s joy and happiness, even if he was reminded of his mortality in the process once again.

“What are the odds?” the Gryffindor grinned, running his fingers through his pushed-back raven locks, “You see, I started off years ago as Minako-sensei’s student, back in Japan.”

It was Viktor’s turn to go wide-eyed, jaw slackening in surprise.

“ _Really?_ ”

Well, like Yuuri had said, what were the odds?

Somehow, what felt like days and yet only a second later, even though it was probably closer to twenty or so minutes, Viktor still found himself in the owlery talking to Yuuri Katsuki. Having been reduced to a ball of nerves in the Gryffindor’s proximity for more than a month, turning into a gooey puddle on the floor every time the handsome Head Boy had glanced in his direction, he could never have imagined himself actually managing to keep up a conversation with the guy without suffering cardiac arrest.

As it was, however, Viktor could only be amazed at how _easy_ it was to talk with Yuuri, feeling his shoulders physically relax as they went along. Still, his heart was thumping so loudly against his ribcage due to adrenaline that he was sure the Gryffindor could hear it from a few feet away.

But he could hope he didn’t notice.

He also couldn’t help being shamelessly curious.

“I heard that you can nonverbally summon a corporeal Patronus.” Viktor found himself blurting out, his mouth running ahead of his brain and throw out the words before he could give them a second thought. His cheeks flamed as Yuuri cocked an eyebrow, but he steeled himself, determined to finish: “I was just…” _curious_ , “…can you?”

Yuuri regarded him for a moment, tilting his head slightly as if attempting to read him like an open book, causing another shudder to crawl up Viktor’s spine, making his skin tingle. Then, the Gryffindor hummed, and to Viktor’s absolute astonishment and terrible excitement, he pulled out an elegant, reddish-brown wand that seemed to be a little shorter and much more brittle than his own spruce wand.

Soft lips quirked up into a smile. Viktor might have trembled in anticipation.

An elegant, circular movement with his wrist, not a word escaping the smiling lips…

…and a silvery little pig sprung out from the tip of the brittle wand, running in a circle in front of Yuuri before setting off through the aperture and into the morning mist.

Yuuri grinned, “Not the most impressive guardian, right?” he said, placing his wand back into the inner pocket of his robes.

All too awestruck about the fact that Yuuri actually _could_ summon a Patronus nonverbally, Viktor was a little taken aback by the (rhetorical?) question, until he finally remembered what animal had ran past him. The thought made him giggle involuntarily.

“It’s a cute piggy, though.”

Yuuri laughed, “I suppose it is, yes.” His smile turned ever so slightly smug. “Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but given who your father is, I would bet you can summon a corporeal Patronus, too.”

_Oh_.

An eye for an eye was only fair, wasn’t it?

Viktor couldn’t help but grin as he pulled out his own wand, moving his wrist without a second thought, “Expecto Patronum.”

An excited, silvery poodle that looked exactly like his darling Makkachin sprung out from the tip, happily jumping a circle around his legs before heading through the window, like the pig had done.

“And you thought my little piggy was cute.” Yuuri mused, smiling as the poodle vanished into the fog. “That’s adorable.”

Viktor blushed up to his ears, tucking his wand away, “Th-thank you.”

Yuuri turned his gaze back to him, and Viktor attempted to hide his blossoming cheeks, only to find he couldn’t avert his eyes from the Gryffindor. He had Viktor spellbound no matter what, but when they locked gazes, he knew he was gone. Utterly and completely.

As if he was searching for something in the depths of Viktor’s aquamarines, Yuuri tilted his head slightly, regarding him contemplatively.

Then, he hummed from deep in his chest, and yet another shudder tickled Viktor’s spine, leaving his skin tingling in its wake.

“You know…” Yuuri spoke slowly, seemingly hesitating for the fraction of a second before continuing, “…Phichit often tells me I’m oblivious; but I’m not blind.”

…

_Oh._

Viktor’s heart stopped, cheeks slowly heating up to Fiendfyre temperatures while all blood that was left shot straight to his legs in an attempt to make him bolt.

Problem was, he could neither breathe nor move, and Yuuri was apparently not done talking just yet, given the fact that he opened his mouth again:

“I know you’ve been… looking.” He revealed, or rather, admitted, a smile playing on his lips. “And to be honest, I’m a little flattered, but mostly… curious.”

Viktor heard himself audibly gulp. Yuuri was close.

Like, _close_.

When had he had the time to step closer?

But that smile… the smile on his lips was neither smug nor pleased, not even self-satisfied or mocking.

It was… fond. Warm.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Viktor managed registered that fact, making his knees tremble. He also became hyperaware of the _small detail_ that Yuuri would only have to take one more step forward to close the distance entirely.

Or, actually, he could do it himself… or could have if he hadn’t been frozen on spot.

“Also,” Yuuri continued, “I find it unfair,” his voice had definitely dropped a pitch lower than before, never letting go of Viktor’s gaze with his own, “that you seem to know so much about me, while I barely know anything at all about you, and you know, Viktor,” his eyes twinkled, and no, Viktor was definitely seconds away from fainting, which wasn’t good at all, but _please don’t stop_ , “I think that needs to change.”

Viktor’s breath hitched as he suddenly realized Yuuri had inched closer again. The Gryffindor’s expression softened, and by some miracle, it made his relax only a little.

Which was good, given that Yuuri wasn’t done yet.

“Tell me,” he said, voice gentle, something akin to a hopeful glint in his warm, chocolate pools, “would you go on a date with me?”

Viktor choked on his own breathing as his heart jumped up to kick his Adam’s apple.

He… he wasn’t dreaming, was he?

But…

_Wh-what…?!_

His eyes widened to the size of saucers, jaw slackening in surprise, causing his mouth to involuntarily fall open as he tried to process what he had just heard. Or misheard? Maybe he was dreaming after all?

His mind was buzzing like a nest of sleeping puffskeins, tongue helplessly glued to the base of his mouth in shock. Coherent speech didn’t exist in his skillset any longer.

The fond smile on Yuuri’s unfairly handsome features widened slightly at his reaction, and Viktor felt a set of smooth fingers beneath his chin, gently coaxing his mouth closed.

“Take your time.”

Patient. Considerate. Attentive.

The world halted in its movement, and all Viktor knew was Yuuri’s hand slipping away from his chin to come and rest on his shoulder, the slight weight placing him back down onto the surface of the planet. Grounding him enough to form one single thought.

_He’s not kidding?_

“You’re… s-serious?” he managed to croak out in little more than a whisper. Yuuri’s smile widened again as he nodded.

“Completely so.”

_Oh beloved Merlin…!_

Viktor’s heart found its rhythm again and sped from there into a drum roll, and he struggled to keep his breathing at a normal pace so as not to hyperventilate. He swallowed, mouth dry as a desert, his fisted palms growing increasingly warm, butterflies invading his stomach in floods.

_Yes!_ he wanted to scream for the world and the universe to hear.

“Yes.” He heard himself reply, breathless and hopelessly drowning in Yuuri’s chocolate pools. “I’d love to.”

The heart-meltingly bright smile he got in response was enough to send a heatwave through Viktor’s entire being, blazing warm and welcome like the flames in the fireplace in the common room. It suddenly felt like the cloak he was wearing was too warm despite the chilly weather. Viktor then decided that he could have just stripped off every bit of fabric he was wearing altogether, because Yuuri’s warm, soft hand left his shoulder to…

…uh…

…gently cup his cheek.

Okay, well, no, Viktor actually wouldn’t have minded the Siberian winter all over again if Yuuri would be there with him to provide his radiating body heat, warm him up with his inner Gubraithian fire to turn Viktor into his best impression of a tomato for the rest of eternity.

“I’m glad.” Yuuri spoke, voice soft and sincere, his thumb carefully stroking along Viktor’s blazing hot cheek. “Hogsmeade this upcoming weekend, maybe?”

_How about a broom closet right about now?_

Viktor mentally slapped himself.

_Hogsmeade, Hogsmeade… there was something he had to remember about… ah!_

“Saturday.” He replied, blurting it out. “After lunch.”

Safe enough.

Yuuri hummed, looking just as pleased as Viktor felt. In fact, the Russian was certain that had he been a cat, he would have been very consciously leaning into Yuuri’s touch (he didn’t dare) and purred loudly from the attention.

“Sounds perfect.” Yuuri agreed, making Viktor internally sigh in relief. “Meet you by the entrance at midday, then?”

A small, fond chuckle escaped his lips as Viktor nodded (all too) enthusiastically, at a loss for words, yet very intent on showing the Gryffindor that yes, perfect, he was very happy to go on a date and preferably ten more.

“Well then, Viktor,” Yuuri smiled, leaning a little closer, his breath a gentle murmur against Viktor’s flushed skin as he spoke close to his ear, “it’s a date.”

_Merlin, Merlin,_ Merlin, _I’m going on a date with_ him…!

“It is.” Viktor somehow managed to confirm verbally, despite his brain having overcooked, packed its bags and gone on vacation. Yuuri let out a laugh, and Viktor decided he wanted to hear that particular laugh every day for the rest of his life. That rich, warm, _happy_ sound that sent his head reeling and pushed a tingling laugh out of himself in turn.

The Gryffindor brushed his thumb over his cheek again.

“You’re too cute when you blush.” He murmured, ever so slightly amused, turning Viktor’s entire upped body into a bonfire, sending heat pooling into the pit of his stomach. Yuuri then slowly leaned back and removed his hand, gesturing towards the entrance. “It’s almost seven; early birds will be heading down to breakfast soon. Maybe we should…?”

_Oh._

“R-right!” Viktor nodded quickly, willing his legs to move so he could walk with Yuuri back down the stairs to the seventh floor. During that time, the Gryffindor took the opportunity to ask more about Viktor’s figure skating, and the Russian found himself relaxing again as they descended the West Tower, gradually growing more and more comfortable with the situation.

…and still attempting to wrap his head around the fact that Yuuri had asked him out. On a _date_.

Incomprehensible.

Reaching the seventh floor, they had to part ways to head back to their respective common rooms, and that had them slowing their steps, pulling to a complete halt once realization fully settled in. Viktor swallowed a lump in his throat, worrying his bottom lip.

Um…

Should he say something? _Do_ something?

Yuuri was faster in his resolve.

With a gesture so swift and smooth Viktor barely had time to register it, the Gryffindor had taken his hand in his own and brought it to his lips, brushing a barely-there kiss to his knuckles.

Viktor’s cheeks blushed a brilliant scarlet, the skin on his hands tingling from where Yuuri’s lips had grazed it.

“See you in dance class tomorrow, Viktor.” He said, lips stretching into a charming smile that did all kinds of (wonderfully embarrassing) things to Viktor’s treacherous and deprived teenage body. “Have a good day.”

Despite his Stupefied brain, Viktor still managed a stuttered “S-see you tomorrow!” in response, stupidly happily smiling right back at Yuuri as the Gryffindor took his sweet time letting go off Viktor’s hand, only releasing it when their arms no longer reached.

It was right about when Yuuri’s perfectly straight back disappeared around the corner (but not before he had turned around to throw him a wink over his shoulder) that Viktor realized he was going to _see_ the Gryffindor in dance class the following day, and that he then had to wait yet another entire _day_ (and a half) before the date, _their_ date, actually would take place.

This unhelpfully translated in his head as: “You won’t survive, Nikiforov.”

Mentally slapping himself hard, Viktor turned on his heel and practically ran the entire way back to the Ravenclaw Tower, impatiently answering the riddle (“What is always coming but never arrives?” “Tomorrow!”, how ridiculously ironic), and heading straight to his dorm. There, he found Chris, who was still in the midst of getting dressed, thankfully alone. Nate and Sherwood usually rose early for breakfast to play a game of Exploding Snap before classes, and Viktor had never loved his dormmates more.

“Morning Vik-, whoa!” Chris halted his words abruptly once he looked up at his friend, curiosity flashing in his eyes as he took in Viktor’s gob-smacked-yet-excited-puppy expression. “What’s with you?”

As his head was spinning, Viktor opted to flop down onto his bed, burying his face into the pillow to scream into it. Chris, growing impatient with anticipation, jumped onto the bed beside him, the mattress dipping a little lower beneath his weight.

“Viktor Nikiforov, I demand you speak this instant!” he commanded, grinning from ear to ear, grabbing his best friend’s shoulder to turn him over. Viktor obliged, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling of his four-poster bed, swimming in bliss.

“I went to the owlery…” he began, breathless, “…to send my parents a letter.” His lips stretched into a stupid grin. “Then _he_ showed up…”

Chris blinked, “Wh-,” he paused, piecing the puzzle together, eyes widening in realization, “Katsuki?”

“ _Da_.” Viktor sighed happily, warmth spreading from his chest out to his toes and fingertips at the memory. “And he just… started talking. Small talk. With me.” _Did he really?_ “We talked… I don’t know, half an hour or so, maybe, and then he…”

Unable to control the overwhelming emotions of Oh Dear Merlin, he grabbed the pillow to scream into it again, joy mixed with shock pouring out of every inch of his being.

“What, what, _what?_ ” Chris demanded, taking hold of the pillow and removing it from Viktor’s face, “What did he do? Come on, tell me!”

Viktor peeked out between his fingers, the brightest grin in the history of the known universe shining right through.

“ _Heaskedmeout!_ ”

It came out as an incomprehensible squeal.

Chris somehow deciphered it anyway, if the slack jaw and Quaffle-sized eyes were anything to go by.

“He did _what?_ ”

“Asked me out!” Viktor exclaimed, sitting up straight to look at his best friend, aquamarines sparkling joyously, “After lunch on Saturday, to Hogsmeade, and I said _yes_ , because why by Merlin’s beard would I say anything else?”

Chris was still gaping, staring at Viktor in stunned silence. Then, his face broke into the widest grin the Russian had ever seen in his life, and before he knew what was happening, the Swiss had brought him into a bone-crushing hug that he happily returned, laughing into his shoulder.

“ _Mon dieu_ , Viktor, _darling!_ ” Chris beamed, rocking him slightly from side to side, “This is the news of the _year_ ; Yuuri Katsuki wants to go on a _date_ with someone, and that someone is _you_ , you lucky puppy!” he squeezed him tighter, “Tomorrow, you’re wearing those amazing sapphire tights and that blue and silver tank top to practice, _oui?_ And on Saturday, we’re going to make you so damn pretty, he’ll fall head over heels from the moment he lays eyes on you.”

“Chris…” Viktor panted, “…can’t… breathe…!”

“Oops,” the Swiss grinned, releasing his hold more, “sorry, darling. Still, you’ve got that guy good, you hear me? Only fair that he won’t be able to look away when you can’t take your eyes off him.” His emeralds suddenly lit up. “Oh, I know! Those dark blue weekend robes and the wine red cloak; that’s it!”

“Chris, that’s on Saturday…”

“No harm in planning ahead.” His best friend reasoned, standing up from the bed to go and pull on his tie, picking up where he left off earlier. He flashed Viktor a grin in the mirror, “My darling son is growing up.”

He barely dodged the pillow that came flying straight towards his head.

And Saturday seemed an eternity away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's slow burn?
> 
> My fog has cleared a bit and Victuuri is giving me life in the midst of dance festival madness. Depending on how hectic next week will be (I literally have practice every day in between meetings) I hope to have the next chapter (yes, the date) up on Thursday night... so a week from now. Then I will be absent from the internet until the beginning of august due to that festival madness.
> 
> \--
> 
> Next chapter looks something like this:
> 
> “What if he thinks I’m boring?” Viktor worried, staring intently at the lone potato on his plate as if it could magically hand him answers to all his questions, “What if I say something stupid or do something awkward? What if-?”
> 
> “Hey, relax, darling,” Chris soothed, patting his back, “take a deep breath. You’re about to go on a date with Prince Charming, and I’m a hundred percent certain that you’ll be in good hands; if I had any suspicion you wouldn’t be, I wouldn’t dare let you go with him alone. He asked you on a date and no one else. That tells a lot.”
> 
> Viktor stilled, trying to skim through all the information he had managed to gather about the Gryffindor so far before turning to look at his best friend, “It does?”
> 
> Chris hummed, swallowing a bite of steak, “Yeah.” He tilted his head. “Did I forget to tell you?"
> 
> Viktor barely noticed himself swallowing with a sand-dry throat. 
> 
> “Tell me what?”
> 
> \--
> 
> Thank you for reading, and see you next week! <3


	6. Not a Dream, but Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Date.

_Flashback: in the early hours of the first Monday of October_

A whimpering whine from the dining room woke Ilia up with a start in the dark of night. He grabbed his wand and quickly illuminated the tip, finding his wife’s terrified aquamarines looking up at him, all calm composure forgotten in the haze of sleep and fear.

“What’s with Makka?” she whispered, voice small and trembling, and very un-Ludmila-like. She must have been having nightmares again, Ilia figured, willing his own heartbeat to slow down in an attempt to think clearly.

“Stay here, love.” He told her quietly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Arm yourself.”

Ludmila sat up and grabbed her wand, knuckles going white as she nodded, “Be careful, Ilyusha.”

He quickly pulled on his morning gown and cast a strengthening protection charm around the bedroom before exiting, heading towards the dining room. Viktor’s hazel brown poodle was sitting by the window, still whining quietly, whimpering as she looked up at Ilia with black button eyes, _worry_ written in large letters all over her demeanor. he crouched down to pet her gently, calming her down a little.

Ilia formed a plan in his head and raised his wand to twirl it around himself as if wrapping his body in invisible rope, the physical evidence of his presence disappearing as the Disillusionment-charm made him invisible. No, Ilia Nikiforov didn’t need an Invisibility Cloak to stay hidden; his own magic could take care of that.

Carefully, he rose to his feet and walked over to the window, pointing the wand to his eyes to grant them vision clear as day even though it was dark all around him. Rain was falling heavily outside, the sky filled to the edges of the world with thick, dark clouds, the unforgiving wind making the chimneys howl and the rooftops rattle.

Beaumont Street was, seemingly, completely empty. The keyword being _seemingly_.

Steeling his resolve, Ilia flicked his wand discreetly, eyes narrowing as he looked up and down the street again. Makkachin _couldn’t_ have been imagining…

…!

His heart involuntarily skipped a beat, and he quickly flicked his wand again.

If the figure on the opposite side of the road knew it had been spotted, it showed no signs of having noticed it. The dark, hooded cloak and the black robes whipped in the beating wind, clinging to a form of average height, not giving anything away about the… person? Actually, it looked more like a small dementor.

Ilia couldn’t tell the gender (if the figure even had one), nor skin color, nor anything else that could have helped him identify it.

He blinked.

And the figure was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. As if it had never even been there.

Makkachin whined worriedly, nosing Ilia’s invisible leg. He sank down to his knew, undoing the charm (not that he _should_ have needed it, as the windows were charmed to not show anything else but a vacant apartment from the outside), and petted the poodle soothingly. Or maybe, therapeutically, because there was no way Makkachin didn’t notice his fiercely thumping heart and the knot of dread tightening to settle heavily in the pit of his stomach, churning mercilessly.

 

Had it been an auror? Had it been Mr. Potter or Mr. Longbottom?

And if it hadn't been them...

...then Inferno knew of their whereabouts.

Unfortunately, one option seemed more likely than the other, and it wasn't the first one.

 

**

 

In hindsight, it was a blessing that Chris had decided days in advance what Viktor was going to wear for his Hogsmeade… _date_ with Yuuri Katsuki, because the Russian was a trembling bundle of nerves from the moment he woke up around five in the morning on Saturday, and was certain he was going to die before breakfast. The giddiness he had felt the night before (or rather, since Wednesday morning) had been replaced with a frantic where-do-I-order-a-tombstone-level of _panic_ , and once again, Chris was there to save him.

Well, Viktor _had_ helped his best friend out in preparation for his first date with Louis (picnic by the lake, something so sweet in contrast to their usual _activities_ that Viktor had been worried Chris had swallowed a romance novel), so it was only fair that Chris got to fuzz over Viktor in turn. Also, the Swiss loved to dress him up.

Which was why Chris rummaged through Viktor’s entire wardrobe until he found the midnight blue weekend robes with silver embroideries he had been looking for, and the dark, wine-red hooded cloak to match. He then insisted doing Viktor’s hair for a change, braiding it expertly and using a wand to make sure that not a single strand was out of place.

The style heavily reminded Viktor of his mother, but he decided to save the comment for another day, because he did like Chris’ handiwork.

“There you go, darling,” the Swiss grinned as Viktor examined himself critically from head to toe in the mirror, “ _trés magnifique_.”

Viktor had to admit he _did_ look good, both with and without the cloak. The robes fit him perfectly, clinging to his lithe form just so, the fabric light and smooth against his skin, color contrasting spectacularly with the porcelain that Chris had more than once deemed “abnormally pale.” He probably had a point.

“Come on,” the Swiss continued, grinning at Viktor’s scrutinizing expression in the mirror, knowing exactly what manner of thoughts were going through his head, “shrink the cloak and put it in your pouch; it’s lunchtime.”

_…huh?!_

A jolt of lightning coursed through Viktor’s body as his frantic gaze snapped in Chris’ direction, “Wh-, _already?!_ ”

His best friend grinned, but his eyes held only reassurance, “It’s a quarter past eleven, darling, and you’re supposed to meet Mr. Hot Pants at noon. Let’s get going already, _oui?_ ”

Well, it wasn’t as if Viktor could argue against the fact that the time of the date was inching nerve-wrackingly closer by the minute, and that he desperately needed to eat something, even though he probably wouldn’t be able to swallow anything at all. Neither could he argue against Chris’ newest nickname for Yuuri, especially since he only the day before had been blessed watching the Gryffindor’s legs wrapped in scarlet tights that accentuated all the right places from the slender calves to the thick thighs and, yes, his ass had looked pretty damn appealing in those and Viktor wouldn’t complain if Yuuri wore them more often, _spasibo_.

As it was, he spent the several minutes of lunch poking around in his food, eating slowly, his back deliberately facing the Gryffindor table. The more food he practically forced down his throat, the more self-conscious he became, and the more he started voicing his concerns aloud.

Which probably was for the best.

“What if he thinks I’m boring?” Viktor worried, staring intently at the lone potato on his plate as if it could magically hand him the answers to all his questions, “What if I say something stupid or do something awkward? What if-?”

“Hey, relax, darling,” Chris soothed, patting his back, “take a deep breath. You’re about to go on a date with Prince Charming, and I’m a hundred percent certain that you’ll be in good hands; if I had any suspicion you wouldn’t be, I wouldn’t dare let you go with him alone. He asked _you_ on a date and no one else. That tells a lot.”

Viktor stilled, trying to skim through all the information he had managed to gather about the Gryffindor so far before turning to look at his best friend, “It does?”

Chris hummed, swallowing a bit of steak, “Yeah.” He tilted his head. “Did I forget to tell you?”

Viktor barely noticed himself swallowing with a sand-dry throat.

“Tell me what?”

“Oh, man,” Chris let out a laugh of disbelief, apparently directed to himself, “I’ve probably forgotten to spell it out for you, but it should have been quite obvious anyway.” He leaned a little closer to Viktor, lowering his voice so as not risking being overhears: “You see, as far as anyone around here knows, Katsuki has never agreed to a date with anyone, nor asked anyone out.”

…?!

The fork fell from Viktor’s hand and onto the plate with an all too loud ‘clink!’, “…what?”

The question was voiced breathlessly quiet. Chris’s grin widened at the look of complete and utter surprise written across his face, and Viktor thought that he maybe should have picked up the hints. But hearing it said aloud…

…unfathomable.

“It’s true.” Chris claimed, giving Viktor’s shoulder a friendly pat. “Like I’m _sure_ I’ve said before, he doesn’t go around toying with people and their feelings; I can’t picture him to be that kind of person, he’s too kind. Asking you on a date is like…” he shrugged, gesturing with his arms expressively, “…you know, declaring his love for the world to hear.” He winked, playfully nudging Viktor’s side. “You should feel special, sweetie.”

Viktor felt mostly faint. Numb.

“He really has never…?”

“It really seems like he hasn’t.”

_But…!_ “Then how is he so _confident?_ ”

Chris hummed, taking a contemplative sip of his pumpkin juice, “Well, given how good knowledge of self he appears to have, what with his skills and kindness and all, I’d say that’s at least part of it, but I don’t know all of his secrets.” He smiled, reassuring. “Cherish it, okay?” his voice took a slightly more serious tone suddenly, willing Viktor to pay attention to every word, “He asked you out, and that can only mean he really, really wanted to do so. No way he would have even considered it otherwise.”

The reassurance didn’t exactly help calming Viktor’s tense nerves, but his heart was thumping a little harder in his chest due to whole other reasons than before.

_You should feel special_.

…well, in a way… he already did.

 

All too soon after the incredulous revelation concerning Yuuri Katsuki’s love life, Viktor found himself right by the entrance of the castle, cloak around his shoulders and ready to go. Chris had already left together with Louis, simply throwing him a wink for good luck when before he exited the castle hand in hand with his boyfriend.

In fact, _most_ people had already left for Hogsmeade, and the few who were still at the castle had yet to finish lunch. Currently, Viktor was only one out of five students waiting in the Entrance Hall, and given who he was waiting for, he was just a little thankful there weren’t more.

Once someone found out he was going on a date with the Head Boy, the news would spread like wildfire. That much was absolutely certain.

Fidgeting nervously with the hems of his sleeves, the small movement hidden beneath the cloak, Viktor glanced briefly towards the Great Hall and then towards the staircase leading to the upper floors of the castle.

That was where his eyes locked onto a slender figure wearing a black cloak and indigo robes, and the world around his ceased to exist.

Yuuri looked mouth-wateringly handsome and elegant with his slicked-back raven locks, blue-rimmed glasses perfectly perched on the bridge of his nose, carrying himself with a grace Lilia would praise to Merlin and beyond. In fact, the posture alone probably made the gorgeous Gryffindor seem taller than he actually was, and he held it so effortlessly it was completely and utterly unfair.

He smiled warmly as their gazes met, and Viktor felt his lips stretch into a bright, shy smile in return as Yuuri quickly approached.

“Hi,” he greeted, voice soft and rich, the slightest tint of exertion pink on his cheeks, probably having descended the stairs in a hurry, “did I keep you waiting long?” a small hint of concern flashed in the depths of his maroon eyes, “I’m sorry.”

Viktor was highly aware that the clock above the Great Hall showed that Yuuri was two minutes early. He quickly shook his head, hoping his smile looked reassuring.

“I got here minutes ago.” He replied sincerely. “Right after lunch.”

Something akin to relief settled on Yuuri’s pleasant features, and he nodded.

“Well, in that case,” he said, gesturing towards the main entrance, “shall we?”

_It’s… it’s really happening…!_

Finding himself at a temporary loss for words, Viktor smiled and nodded eagerly instead of attempting to find his tongue for the time being, easily falling into a common pace with Yuuri as they exited the castle together. It all felt unreal. He was very, very seriously going on a date to Hogsmeade with Yuuri Katsuki, who apparently hadn’t dated _anyone_ during his four years at Hogwarts.

Viktor had only been attending the school for a little more than a _month_ , and had somehow during that time managed to catch the eye of the unattainable Head Boy.

And little more than a month ago, Viktor would never have thought it even remotely possible that something as ridiculously amazing as a date with Yuuri Katsuki would ever happen, but… well, there he was. On his way to Hogsmeade with said Yuuri Katsuki.

Reality seemed to be more than ready to slap him hard in the face whenever it so pleased, and in this particular case, that slap was more than welcome, as he wanted to remember every second of the day to come.

For once, it wasn’t raining at all, but only a light mist in the air that barely stuck to their cloaks, but Yuuri was quick to pull out his wand and cast Impervius-spells on both Viktor and himself anyway, repelling the droplets. Somehow, the spell was even strong enough to keep Viktor’s _hair_ dry, and knowing a thing or two about spells, he recognized that as kind of very impressive.

“What kind of wand do you have?” he couldn’t help but ask, eyeing the brittle, reddish-brown stick just as Yuuri was about to place it back inside his robes.

“Oh,” he paused the motion, and instead held out the wand for Viktor to have a look at, “it’s twenty-five centimeters, cherry wood, brittle, with a dragon heartstring from a Chinese Fireball as its core.”

Viktor tilted his head in interest, searching his mind, “Cherry wood? Is it a more common wand wood in Japan than… well, anywhere else?”

“I would guess so.” Yuuri pondered, placing the wand back in the inner pocket of his robes. “It’s quite a desired wand wood in Japan; many want a cherry wood wand even if it doesn’t necessarily suit them. ‘The wand chooses the wizard’, and all that. This one chose me, though.” He added almost as an afterthought, smiling slightly. “Cherry wood doesn’t actually suit many, according to wandmakers.” He tilted his head. “What about yours?”

“Hard spruce,” Viktor replied without a second thought, pulling out his wand to show it to Yuuri, “twenty-seven centimeters, unicorn hair. It was costume made for me, courtesy of papa; he’s friends with the wandmaker.”

Yuuri regarded the wand with interest, the smile on his face turning into a grin.

“And you’re sure that it really is unicorn hair in there, and that the wandmaker just didn’t accidentally place a strand of your own hair there instead?”

_Oh no, he’s flirting…!_

Viktor blushed up to his ears at the obvious and ridiculous “question” that _did things_ to his bodily functions, and hence, he gave up a nervous (and flattered) laugh before placing his wand away. Yuuri, though, easily slid back to the conversation again, mercifully offering Viktor some of his sanity back.

“Spruce is quite an uncommon wood for a wand, too, isn’t it?” he commented thoughtfully, “While it’s a common type of wood in general, spruce wands tend to not suit many wizards; I’ve understood it takes a lot of skill and passion to wield one.”

Viktor knew all of that. Yet, his cheeks blossomed bright at the compliment.

“S-so they say, yes,” he confirmed, smile turning slightly sheepish, “and they tend to go well with wizards who have… well, as the wandmaker put it: ‘a tendency for drama and flamboyancy.”

His own self-consciousness paid off as it coaxed that heart-melting laugh out of Yuuri that Viktor had come to fall flat on his face for time and time again. It made him feel as if he was soaring through the effects of a perfectly made Euphoria-potion along with the sound.

“I’ll remember that.” The Gryffindor promised, clearly amused, more to Viktor’s joy than his embarrassment. “Does that ‘tendency’ translate itself onto the Quidditch field, too, by any chance?”

Viktor noticed an opportunity and couldn’t help himself, wanting to tease in turn, “Are you trying to figure out how to put me at a disadvantage to Chulanont?”

Yuuri, however, didn’t even blush, but burst out laughing after processing his words for a second, probably realizing himself how the question could have been interpreted.

“Caught me.” He joked, winking at him. “I guess I’ll find out eventually. It definitely translates to the dancefloor, though.”

Sadly (or not), Viktor found his plan to tease Yuuri backfiring as his cheeks inevitably dusted pink.

“I suppose it does.” He admitted, slightly sheepish, causing the Gryffindor to grin.

He knew very well that Yuuri was referring to the renaissance dance lesson they had had on Thursday, when Viktor had all but, _uh_ , shamelessly shown off his skills by doing almost ridiculously energetic galliard-cadences, kicking his legs high up in the air before landing in posture as lightly as possible. The dance was meant to be flashy, and just like Ludmila, the word “modest” didn’t exactly exist in Viktor’s dictionary.

Yuuri, once again, mercifully saved him from permanently turning into a tomato by gesturing towards the village that they were approaching, “Anything you need to get? Or want to do? We can go for a cup of something a little later.”

“Some parchment.” Viktor immediately replied, having willed himself to remember that tiny little fact. “And I’m in dire need of Glacial Snow Flakes and pumpkin pasties.”

The Gryffindor nodded in grave understanding, coaxing a laugh out of Viktor in turn as the amusement in Yuuri’s eyes was evident despite the serious expression, “Honeydukes might just have what you’re looking for.”

It turned out that Viktor wasn’t the only one with a sweet tooth, because Yuuri took the opportunity to buy a few Chocolate Frogs and a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans while Viktor located the Glacial Snow Flakes and picked up four small packets. Yuuri then caught him eyeing the Crystallized Pineapple, and somehow, when they exited the shop, a box of exactly that ended up being shrunk to miniscule size and placed inside Viktor’s pouch together with the rest of his sweets. He attempted to protest, but for some reason, Yuuri couldn’t hear him.

He got his parchment, and then Yuuri remembered he needed to buy new socks, so they headed over to Gladrags Wizardwear, who were famous for selling strange and unusual articles of that particular clothing. While the Gryffindor looked elsewhere, Viktor caught sight of a pair in scarlet with a golden phoenix-feather pattern, and after making sure it was a pair that changed size and shape to fit the wearer’s foot, he quickly bought them and slipped the (shrunk down) socks into Yuuri’s pouch when they were leaving the store.

Despite his protests, Viktor could tell Yuuri liked the socks, much to his joy and satisfaction.

With the clock moving its arms all too fast, Viktor announced a couple of hours into the date that “a cup of something”, as Yuuri had put it, would be very, very nice. Heading inside in general seemed like a good idea due to the once again damp and chilly weather (it looked like it would start pouring at any given moment).

Yuuri was quick to agree.

“I had the Morning Dew tea room in mind, if that’s up your alley.” He suggested, tilting his head slightly in question. “The Three Broomsticks is pretty crowded, the Hog’s Head… well, definitely quieter but about a hundred times shadier, and Madame Puddifoot’s…” the last one was explained with a horrified shudder.

“Let’s skip that one.” Viktor agreed, having walked in-and-out of the little tea shop filled to the brim with love-struck couples packed like sardines in a space that didn’t offer any kind of privacy whatsoever. “Morning Dew sounds good; I haven’t been there before, though.”

Yuuri smiled warmly, “I have a feeling you’ll like it.”

Yuuri was wrong.

Viktor _loved_ it.

The Morning Dew tea room was cozy in a whole different way than the sickeningly sweet Madame Puddifoot’s, and while there were a few tables spread out on the floor throughout the space, the booths along the walls seemed to be the go-to places, as they were the only ones occupied when Viktor and Yuuri entered the shop. The interior was all warm, earthly colors of walnut brown and golden ochre, a board with a grass-pattern stretching across the middle of the walls, the tiny leaves glistening with dewdrops.

Seeing as they were actually going to be granted a little bit of privacy, Viktor relaxed. It wasn’t exactly crowded, and among the people present, there wasn’t a single one that he knew by name. Really, there seemed to be more locals than Hogwarts students.

Yuuri led him to a vacant, U-shaped booth, and they sat down on the far end of the couch around the table, sitting more beside each other than face-to-face (which made Viktor very conscious of the fact that Yuuri was _close_ and that he wanted to inch even _closer_ , if the opportunity would arise).

A barista appeared out of nowhere seconds later to take their order, and Viktor had to give up his thoughts of brushing his knee against Yuuri’s on accident for a moment to be able to think. Yuuri swiftly ordered a single cup of some Japanese tea Viktor didn’t recognize, but it gave him the courage of attempting to order entirely according to his own preferences: black tea with a slice of lemon, and strawberry jam on the side to go with it. He was over the moon when the barista didn’t even blink an eye at the request, but then he remembered that he wasn’t the only Russian at Hogwarts. Surely someone else had ordered something similar before.

It was at least something Lilia would do, Viktor figured.

Yuuri looked curious, though, “Strawberry jam?” he asked, tilting his head.

Viktor nodded eagerly, “It’s delicious; just a small spoonful of jam with each sip of tea, and no other sweetener is needed.”

The Gryffindor hummer in interest, “I’ll need to try that sometime.” Viktor was downright gleeful with joy after that.

The barista appeared again, this time with their orders, and before Viktor had any time to react, Yuuri had smoothly paid for the both of their drinks. Hence, the Russian frowned, pouting in a childlike manner.

“I could have paid for m-“

“I recall asking _you_ out.” Yuuri gently cut him off, halting Viktor’s protest halfway in his throat. “It’s on me.”

Viktor crossed his arms, “Then I’m asking _you_ out next time.” His mouth retorted before his brain had the time to realize what he had actually said, and didn’t actually register it properly before Yuuri started laughing at his childish demeanor.

“Are you?” he asked, subtly teasing, a smug smile playing on his lips as he carefully stirred his tea.

Viktor’s cheeks grew hot, and he thought his following words through more thoroughly before speaking again:

“I am.” Determined, nerves steeled. “Next Hogsmeade visit in two weeks, same time.” He felt his blush spread up to his ears and decided to ignore it. “If you’d like to.”

A twinkle of amusement flashed in Yuuri’s maroon eyes, but it was soon replaced with genuine warmth, accompanied by a smile that made Viktor’s soul dissolve into stardust.

“I’d love to.” The Gryffindor replied, trailing a lone finger along the back of Viktor’s hand on the couch. Viktor’s heart stilled, skipped a beat, and he almost unconsciously shifted closer to the _very much_ welcome touch, absolutely certain he was grinning bigger than Phichit Chulanont ever had in his life.

“G-great!” he managed to squeak out.

_Damn, stutter!_

Yuuri didn’t mention it or give any indication he had noticed the embarrassing noise altogether, which he could only be grateful for.

“And speaking of Hogsmeade,” the Gryffindor spoke up, giving Viktor his full and undivided attention, resting his head in his free hand, elbow propped up on the table, “how do you like Hogwarts so far?”

Now, _this_ , Viktor could manage. He beamed brightly.

“It’s great!” he replied enthusiastically, eyes sparkling as he thought about the school he had come to love, “It’s warm and welcoming, so full of vibrancy and…” he worried his bottom lip in search for a suitable word, “… _life_. Quite a contrast to Koldovstoretz, to be honest.”

Yuuri cocked an eyebrow, a slight hint of surprise in his expression, “Really? How so?”

Viktor hummed, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth again in thought. _Good question!_

“Well, I’m not saying Koldovstoretz is unwelcoming or anything like that, but it feels more… detached, is that the word? The Headmaster always had our students’ best interest in mind and such, but he was more the type to gaze down from his pedestal and not at all as… _familiar_ as Headmistress McGonagall, so to speak. The _feel_ at Hogwarts is different, is all. Special.”

Yuuri nodded, pondering his words.

“In a way, I might know what you’re getting at.” He agreed. “Hogwarts has a certain atmosphere that might be entirely unique to it. Mahoutokoro, my former school, that is…” Viktor perked up, as if his attention wasn’t entirely directed towards Yuuri already, clinging to every little piece of information about himself that the Gryffindor was willing to offer, “…well, for one, it’s much smaller than Hogwarts; it has the smallest student body in the wizarding world, as far as I know.” His lips quirked into a smile.

“While that means that the students bond and interact with each other in a different manner than here, Hogwarts still feels more like a second home.” A slight frown appeared on his brow. “It might have something to do with the fact that rumors spread _fast_ , and that no one literally forgets anything ever. It feels as if though people know each other _too_ well, and that isn’t always nice.”

“Rumors seem to spread pretty fast at Hogwarts, too, though.” Viktor pointed out.

Yuuri offered a small, almost sheepish smile, “Believe me, ‘pretty fast’ doesn’t come close to describing the speed they spread with at Mahoutokoro. Try ‘faster than the Snitch flies’, and you’re a little closer to the truth.”

Without even realizing it, they were creating their own comfortable little bubble, in which they talked about this and that and left the rest of the world on the outside. Viktor made an effort at getting to know as much as he could about Yuuri, and it was quite clear from the start that Yuuri was determined to get to know him just as much in turn. Viktor told the Gryffindor that he had started dancing under Lilia’s guidance at the age of six, and Yuuri revealed that he had been running around in Minako-sensei’s studio since he was four.

Somehow, Viktor also managed to coax out the answer to the question that had bothered him earlier the same week, namely why Yuuri moved like a Seeker on the Quidditch field even though he wasn’t one.

“I played as Seeker for my house team back at Mahoutokoro.” Yuuri confessed, and Viktor mentally high-fived himself for recognizing the obvious skill. “But honestly? Phichit is much better in that position than me, and he has much better eye-sight. Also,” the corner of his mouth twitched slightly, “I’ve been told I have the stamina required for a Chaser, more so than for a Seeker.”

Well, that _did_ give Viktor some ideas, so he quickly moved the conversation along before he had the chance to embarrass himself some more.

He felt a little guilty about having to lie about why he and his parents had moved to London (“Mama got stationed at the Ministry for her job, so we’ll stay at least until I finish my studies here”, which maybe wasn’t _entirely_ a lie). Then again, he was over the moon that Yuuri was willing to share his story with him.

He had grown up in the seaside town of Hasetsu at his parents’ hot spring inn together with his older sister, Mari, and started attending Mahoutokoro at the age of seven, flying back and forth to the school every day for four years on a giant storm petrel (which sounded all too amazing to Viktor, who loved both animals and flying). At age eleven, Yuuri had finally been allowed to board the school, and had become Seeker on his house’s Quidditch team immediately, recognized for his skills from the start.

Apparently, Mahoutokoro sorted their students into five houses instead of for, although, as Yuuri explained, the color of one’s robes was more important than house or year of education.

“Everyone starts with pale pink, and then the robe changes color as you acquire more skills and master more magic.” He told Viktor when the Russian once again found himself asking a lot of questions out of insatiable curiosity, happy that Yuuri didn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest. “I the end, I only boarded Mahoutokoro for two years, so I never made it past lavender; that’s the third stage.” He took a sip of his tea, licking his lips slightly, Viktor unable to tear his gaze away from the small motion that did many things to his body and mind he really couldn’t complain about (even if it was embarrassing).

“But then, back at home for winter break during my second year,” Yuuri swiftly continued, “my friend Yuuko’s parents came with the news that they were going to expand their business to Europe and move to Wales. We were very upset about that, my friend Takeshi and I, because…” he shrugged, offering a smile, “…it had always been _us_ , you know? We were from the same town, we were the same age, we had started dancing together as kids; all that and more. So, after many temper tantrums from Takeshi and a lot of sulking on my part,” he let out a laugh, running a hand through his raven locks, “and after a good discussion between our parents and the Headmaster, we all transferred to Hogwarts in time for our third year.”

Viktor pieced the information together, “So your family still lives in Japan?”

Yuuri nodded in confirmation, “I only visit during summer holidays; it’s a long way to travel, there and back again. Hence, ever since I enrolled here, I’ve been spending the last week of August at the hotel that Yuuko’s family runs in Wales, to get school supplies and get used to the language all over again before coming here.”

Finally, the name clicked for Viktor, too, “And you mean Yuuko as in Yuuko Shiro? Hufflepuff, Head Girl?”

Yuuri smiled, giving up a small chuckle, “Her, yes. Funny how that turned out actually, that we were picked as Head Boy and Head Girl despite being transfers and all. Yuuko is actually engaged to Takeshi, who is also Hufflepuff prefect; they’re getting married next summer.” He grinned. “It seems they were meant to stay together.”

Well, now Viktor knew who he had to thank for Yuuri’s presence at Hogwarts. He made a mental note to give both Yuuko and her parents a token of gratitude at some point in the future. But there was another thing he wanted to know more about:

“So, your family still runs a hot spring inn, then?” he eagerly asked, and he could almost physically feel his eyes sparkling, “I’ve never been to one, but they sound amazing.”

Yuuri hummed, tilting his head slightly, “Planning to visit?” the smile was ever so slightly smug, “You’re more than welcome.”

_Yes, I’d like to visit, as soon as possible, thank you very much!_

Outwardly, Viktor felt his cheeks tint pink, but the slight fluster didn’t erase the broad grin from his face, “I’ll hold you on to that offer.”

No, he was _not_ going to take the slight inconvenience of Inferno into account. He would visit those hot springs one day, and no evil wizard in the world would be able to stop him from doing so.

And just as he thought that Yuuri Katsuki was the prince of his dreams, the Gryffindor proved to be so much more than that:

“Your Patronus is a poodle.” He spoked, looking curious. “Do you have a poodle? Or another dog? Other pets?”

Viktor told him (or rather, gushed) about his dearly beloved Makkachin, promising to show a photo of the pooch to Yuuri at some point in the near future.

“What about you?” he asked, highly aware that Yuuri’s hand was more or less covering his own on the couch by that point. He wouldn’t have moved it for the world.

To Viktor’s surprise, Yuuri’s smile widened slightly, which made his heart melt, _but_ … there… that was… a barely-there blush on his cheeks?

Yuuri was _blushing?_

“Well, I do have a pet.” He confessed, grinning from ear to ear. “Her name is Aki-chan, and she’s a toy sized, caramel colored little poodle.”

…oh. _Oh!_

Viktor felt his jaw slacken and mouth fall open, eyes widening to the size of Hagrid’s pumpkins as he stared at the Gryffindor in complete and utter shock.

“Please tell me you have pictures.” He heard his voice speak from somewhere far away.

Yuuri laughed softly, “In my dorm, I do. I’ll show you my Aki-chan if you show me your Makkachin.”

No.

No, no, _nyet!_

No one, absolutely no one, was allowed to be that perfect. Yuuri Katsuki was already more than Viktor could have ever dreamed of, and he just wasn’t allowed to exceed all expectations even further, because it just wasn’t fair anymore. Yet, he mercilessly continued shattering Viktor’s vision of perfection and somehow managed to make it _better_.

What was even more overwhelming was the realization that not one did Yuuri’s attention waver, his focus solely on Viktor during the entirety of the time they spent at the Morning Dew tea room. He asked questions without pushing for answers, freely replying in turn when Viktor’s curious mind demanded to know something, _anything_ , respecting boundaries and never crossing the line.

(He loved the teasing because of that; Yuuri never took it too far.)

Kind and considerate, like Chris had described him at some point or other, Yuuri essentially met Viktor exactly where he was.

Truthfully, he could scarcely believe his luck that this intelligent, witty, drop-dead _gorgeous_ person had chosen to, _wanted_ to, spend time with Viktor of all people. Him and _no one else_.

The thought made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and he found his hand seeking to link with the Gryffindor’s under the table. There was no hesitation in Yuuri’s movement as he shifted his own hand to reciprocate, lacing their fingers together.

His head was somewhere above the clouds at that point, the universe consisting only of Yuuri, himself, and their interlocked hands.

The rest of the world didn’t stop moving around them, however, and time flew past much too quickly. All too soon, Viktor was very sad to note the arms of his watch inching towards his curfew of six o’clock. Thankfully, his stomach growled, so he didn’t have to initiate an awkward explanation about being hungry, because Yuuri once again showed to be the most observant person on the planet (did Chulanont really call him oblivious? Why?).

“Hungry?” he asked kindly, and Viktor nodded with a sheepish smile. Yuuri smiled back and gave his hand a light squeeze, “Dinner, then?”

Well, time was flying, and their cups were long since empty, anyway.

Yuuri draped Viktor’s cloak over his shoulders like a perfect gentleman, lacing their fingers together again the moment they made it out the door (Viktor’s heart boldly attempted to hammer itself out of his chest with joy), and as they started walking back to the castle, their conversation continued right where they left off. Hence, Viktor soon forgot all about his growling stomach, because he would give anything, absolutely anything, to have Yuuri all to himself just a little while longer.

By the time they reached the castle grounds, he had steeled his nerves enough to do something about it, so he spoke up:

“Actually, I…” Yuuri slowed his movements along with him, soon coming to a halt and turning to Viktor to look at him curiously, “…I’d like to take a walk before dinner. Stretch my legs before sitting down again, and all.”

The Gryffindor blinked, then smiled warmly and nodded, “Okay. Around the lake?”

Yuuri’s hand was a warm (how could it even be so warm?!), comforting weight in Viktor’s own as they (very slowly) made their way around the lake. The firm, secure grip gave him the courage to move a little closer, their arms touching.

Viktor looked up, his heart skipping a beat as he found a pair of dark chocolate pools gazing back at him in something akin to wonder. As if the person they belonged to had a hard time fathoming that Viktor was real.

His cheeks felt just as warm as Yuuri’s hand, and he was certain the grin on his face accurately matched the expression on the Gryffindor’s.

They ended up walking around the lake twice (or was it thrice?) before they (reluctantly) headed up to the castle. When they did, there was approximately twenty minutes of dinnertime left, and Viktor’s stomach was screaming. He ignored it.

There were practically no students left in the Great Hall when they finally made it there, so Viktor sat down with Yuuri by the otherwise empty Gryffindor table. He wasn’t exactly concentrating on what he was eating, too busy talking with Yuuri, which came to bite him in the butt as Yuuri reached a hand up to his face to wipe a grain of rice away from the corner of his mouth. He blushed up to his ears, but giggled as Yuuri laughed that heart-melting laugh at his reaction.

When Yuuri then laced their fingers together again and offered to escort him all the way back to the Ravenclaw Tower, Viktor decided he was going to marry the Gryffindor sooner or later. Preferably sooner.

Preferably instantly.

The walk to the Ravenclaw Tower took a while longer than usual, as they somehow ended up walking along what must have been (probably not) every corridor of every floor until they inevitably reached the seventh, walking at the slowest pace in the history of walking as they inched closer to their destination (or rather, Viktor’s destination). By that point, Viktor had loosened up _a lot_ since noon, and found it so easy to talk to Yuuri that he only could wonder what he had been so nervous about in the first place.

Reaching the corridor in which the Ravenclaw Tower was located, they halted their Flobberworm-paced movement altogether, turning to face each other as if they were performing a well-practiced choreography. Yuuri’s hand tightened around Viktor’s, and his heart clenched along with the pressure on his hand.

It was dancing with joy and screaming in agony simultaneously. Never had he felt a stranger sensation, unable to tell if he loved it more than he hated it, or the other way around.

Yuuri smiled warmly, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb over the back of Viktor’s palm, and suddenly, the agony seemed to just melt away altogether.

“I had a great time today.” Yuuri told him, sincere. “I’ve been smiling so much my cheeks are going to hurt tomorrow.”

The giggle that escaped Viktor’s lips was entirely involuntary, but not at all unwelcome, as it coaxed a small laugh and a bright smile from the Gryffindor in turn.

“Me, too.” He admitted, tightening his hold on Yuuri’s hand in turn. “Thank you, for today. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had so much fun.”

“You’re making me blush.” Yuuri murmured, still smiling, eyes twinkling happily. Sure enough, a light shade of cherry blossom pink adorned his cheeks. While Viktor was trying to process what he had just heard, Yuuri’s expression shifted to that of determination, and he spoke up again: “Want to go for a walk after lunch tomorrow? We don’t need to go to Hogsmeade again, just-“

“I’d love to!” Viktor replied instantly, eagerly nodding even though he had barely registered and not at all digested the question.

Walk. After lunch. Tomorrow. Not Hogsmeade.

…perfect!

Yuuri’s face lit up, and warmth spread in Viktor’s chest at the sight.

“Then, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He concluded softly, his free hand not wavering once as he reached to gently rest it on Viktor’s cheek, thumb carefully caressing the porcelain skin that turned to hot scarlet beneath. Viktor’s breath caught short in his throat and then came out as a small, satisfied sigh as he briefly closed his eyes.

Then, his heart momentarily stopped beating.

Time stopped moving.

The Earth stopped rotating.

All because a pair of soft lips placed a feather-light kiss on his burning cheek.

While the contact was brief, Yuuri didn’t withdraw right away. Hence, he could feel the smile close to his cheek and the warm breath on his skin, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

“Good night, Viktor.” Yuuri murmured close to his ear, sending a pleasant shudder up Viktor’s spine.

The Russian steeled himself.

“Good night… Yuuri.”

The Gryffindor momentarily stilled, and it took Viktor a couple of seconds to figure out why. The realization had his heart do a double Sloth Grip Roll.

It was the first time he had called Yuuri by name.

He was _very_ glad he had done so, though, because he was well rewarded with another feathery kiss on his cheek and a positively _beaming_ Yuuri with cherry pink cheeks who didn’t let go off his hand until they absolutely couldn’t reach each other any longer, just like on Wednesday morning. And just like back then, Viktor looked at the Gryffindor’s retreating form for as long as he could see him. As Yuuri was about to round the corner, he turned to smile and wave at Viktor before disappearing out of sight. Viktor quickly waved back, grinning from ear to ear, before heading over to the bronze eagle-headed knocked to answer a riddle in a slight haze of euphoria (“What is broken every time it’s spoken?” “Silence.” “How rude.” “You’re a bronze knocker shaped like an eagle’s head.” “Congratulations on not telling me I’m ridiculous; step inside.”).

“Well…?” Chris grinned cheekily the moment Viktor entered their dorm, making Nate and Sherwood look up from their game of Exploding Snap. The Russian, however, scarcely noticed as he tossed the cloak over the chair beside his bed and flopped down on top of the covers with a long, dreamy sigh.

“Viktoooor,” Chris cooed, gently placing Pearl down and coming over to Viktor’s bed, slumping down on it beside him, “how was it? Come on, spill already!”

Chris was saying something, wasn’t he?

Asking how the date had went, maybe?

Feeling lightheaded at the thought about the answer to _that_ question, all he managed was a breathless “Amazing.”

“What was amazing?” wondered Sherwood, card game forgotten. It was probably safe to guess that he and Nate hadn’t been to Hogsmeade and somehow managed to tune out the rest of the world the entire day, or they would definitely have known. Should have known.

Chris looked slightly shocked for a second, then grinned at them.

“Well, you see, our sweetheart Viktor here has been on a date with the man of all his most pleasant dreams.” He shamelessly informed them, and no, Viktor wasn’t even mad. Not that he was listening too well, either. “Tell me more, Viktor darling,” Chris then prompted him further, and Viktor made an effort to listen, “all the juicy details. Did you hold hands?”

“Yes.”

“Hug?”

“Not exactly.”

“Which means…?”

“He cupped my cheek and kissed the other one. Twice.” Viktor elaborated, absentmindedly lifting his hand to touch the still tingling spot on his right cheek where Yuuri had pressed his lips against his skin.

Chris looked ecstatic, “So, future plans? I volunteer as best man for your wedding.”

That comment made Viktor momentarily snap back to reality enough to reflexively hit Chris with a pillow, which only made the Swiss laugh at him. Viktor glared daggers, but replied anyway:

“We’re taking a walk after lunch tomorrow, and I asked him on a date during the next Hogsmeade weekend.”

“I’m sorry, but _who_ is this mystery man?” Nate asked, curiosity winning over his will to finish the game.

“Oh, you wouldn’t _believe_.” Chris said dramatically. “You see, our sweet little Viktor here has managed to capture the heart of Hogwarts’ one and only Head Boy.”

…

It was quite a view, watching their dormmates piece the puzzle together, realization hitting hard and shock twice as much.

“Y-“ Sherwood attempted to form words while Nate was too busy imitating a fish on dry land to speak, “you went on a date with _Yuuri Katsuki?_ ”

“Yes!” Viktor exclaimed, wanting to shout it out for the universe to know, eyes shining as his smiled rivaled the sun in brightness.

“But…!” Nate started, looking like he was trying to collect the pieces of his shattered reality to build it all anew, “I just… _how_ did that happen?”

“He asked me.” Viktor replied breathlessly, laughing aloud as he still could not _believe_ all of that had actually transpired. “Early on Wednesday morning, in the owlery. I went there to send a letter home when he showed up to do the same, and then he just… asked me out. On a date.” Viktor took the opportunity to cover his (probably ridiculously happy) face into the pillow. “Chris, if this is a dream, I never, ever want to wake up.”

A second later, he yelped loudly in surprise and a little pain, because Chris had pinched his arm sufficiently hard, and the immediate reaction was to throw the pillow in the general direction of the Swiss’ face. He missed.

“Not a dream.” Chris assured him, clearly amused. “So, please share with all of us present: how is _the_ Yuuri Katsuki in person?”

Viktor let out an embarrassing sound somewhere between a moan and a groan at the very thought of how _the_ Yuuri freaking Katsuki was in person. Where would he even begin?

“Oh, Merlin, he’s _perfect!_ ” he settled for, “Kind, attentive, considerate, so much fun and so _warm_.” He suddenly remembered a crucial detail and shot up, sporting a borderline maniacally ecstatic look on his face. “He even has a poodle! A toy sized, caramel fluffball.”

Chris’ mouth fell open in surprise.

“…you’re kidding.”

“Nope!” Viktor laughed, throwing himself back down onto the covers, sighing longingly, “Chris… how many dates are you supposed to go on before you can propose?”

At that, Chris burst out laughing.

“Merlin, Viktor,” he wheezed, shaking his head, clutching his stomach, “you’re so _gone!_ ”

“Yes, I am.” Viktor confirmed without missing a beat. “I’m gone, smitten, I’ve died and ascended, and I _love_ it! You were right, by the way,” Chris tilted his head in confusion as Viktor grinned at him.

“I did feel special.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's nearing midnight and my eyes aren't really open any longer, but maybe I managed without too many mistakes. I sincerely hope you enjoyed the read :)
> 
> This marks the start of my inevitable break from the internet, as I will be kidnapped out to the archipelago tomorrow and then thrown head first into Dance Festival Chaos from Sunday evening till the very end of July. I'll return after recovery (and a babyshower... unless it turns into a welcome-home-shower ^.^). Hopefully, this longer-than-usual chapter will make up for some of it.
> 
> For those waiting for the continuation of The Ice Prince and the Dragon Master-series... I will start posting in August. Probably towards the end of the month. All outlines are done and the first few chapters have taken shape. (Also, because CfyA somehow has reached a four-digit kudos count, I'm working on something a little special to celebrate... I'll get back to that in August, too).
> 
> Enjoy the summer sun and take care <3 much love to all of you!


	7. Many a Thing on a Misty Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor gets to experience first-hand that rumors spread like wildfire at Hogwarts, and far from all of them are either true nor pleasant. Luckily, he has friends... and Yuuri.

Chris yet again proved to be the best of all best friends Viktor could ever ask for, as the Swiss promptly glared daggers right back at a group of whispering Gryffindor girls when he and Viktor were headed towards the Great Hall for lunch the day after Viktor’s date with one Yuuri Katsuki. Which the entire student body and their grandmothers now knew about. Viktor and Chris had skipped breakfast in favor of sleeping a little longer (and because Chris wasn’t satisfied until he had managed to milk out as much information about the date out of Viktor), and before they even had left their dorm, the rumors had reached their ears, courtesy of their worrying dormmates (bless Nate and Sherwood).

Rumors about The Date were all over the place. Rumors about Viktor and Yuuri holding hands and having dinner together – both true. Rumors about Viktor having used a love potion on Yuuri – absolutely not true. And everything imaginable in between.

Chris told him not to care, and Viktor decided that following his friend’s advice would be a rational and probably very good plan to follow.

“Don’t worry about it.” Chris reminded him firmly, annoyed, shooting a glare towards a group of Hufflepuffs that were muttering behind their backs. “It’ll blow over soon enough; rumors never stay hot for long.”

It was a very good thing that Viktor was still feeling on top of the world from the previous day when they reached the Great Hall, because he could swear he physically felt every single pair of eyes in the room directing themselves towards him, and far from all of them felt friendly. Instinctively searching for comfort, he looked over at the Gryffindor table without a second thought, easily spotting Yuuri’s raven hair by the far end with Phichit and what looked like to be the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

As if he could feel the gaze lingering on the back of his neck, Yuuri turned his head, his features lighting up in a smile as he waved. Cheeks involuntarily flushing pink and heart fluttering preciously in his chest, Viktor smiled and waved back before sitting down with Chris by the Ravenclaw table.

The instant they did, he became aware of his sixth-year housemates and the Ravenclaw Quidditch team suddenly appearing out of seemingly nowhere, as if they had decided something he didn’t know about (he found out later that Chris, Nate and Sherwood had something to do with it), filling up the places around him and Chris in record time. As soon as he realized what they were doing, a rush of enormous thankfulness spread in his chest.

Something like that would never have happened at Koldovstoretz. He was pretty sure of it.

“Just ignore them all.” Sara told him decisively, promptly serving herself some potatoes. “Jealousy suits their ugly faces.” The last part was delivered spitefully towards the Slytherin table, earning her a scowl from a nearby girl about twice Sara’s own size that looked like she could snap a spine in half with one hand.

“Nate and Sherwood told us.” Loretta explained in short, leaning over the table a little with a smile on her lips. “You’re _radiating_ today, Viktor; don’t let anyone bring you down. They don’t deserve the satisfaction.”

“What she said.” Louis seconded from beside Chris, grinning widely. “When Monday rolls around, there will be something else to gossip over already.”

Viktor could swear he felt the salt of gratitude stinging in the back of his eyes, a genuine smile settling on his lips that he willed not to tremble with emotion.

“Thank you.” He managed to articulate. Words were too hard to manage at the moment. Food, luckily, wasn’t.

Briefly looking up from said food, he glanced over at the Gryffindor table again to immediately lock gazes with a pair of deep, chocolate pools. He met the slightly concerned expression with a reassuring smile (or that’s what he hoped it looked like), and received one in return.

Still, the hissing whispers and dagger glares were all around him, and Viktor really had to concentrate hard on his food and the Quidditch-related discussion Sara and the team was determinedly keeping afloat, because he suddenly felt an enormous urge to just get out of the Great Hall. Preferably as fast as possible.

Chris’ hand on his arm grounded him, the buzz fading to white noise in the background, and with a shaky breath, he continued eating. His patience (which Yakov would claim he never had in the first place) was running low, and his nerves were getting tenser by the second, ready to snap, and when his plate was finally, _finally_ empty, it took him all of his self-restraint (again, something Yakov probably felt he lacked) not to stand up and scream.

That, or flip the bird at the Slytherin girls behind them, like Sara shamelessly did.

He was about to get up and storm over to the Gryffindor table when warm hands on his shoulders had him melting in his seat instead, nerves loosening into some kind of gooey substance that left him relaxed and pliant in a secure hold.

“Are you all right, Viktor?”

Sara easily slid a little to the side on the bench to allow Yuuri to sit down, his back facing the table. Viktor suddenly felt about a thousand and one emotions well up to the brim at the thought of Yuuri being _concerned_ , and he had to fight back tears, barely managing to shake the wetness from his eyes while reaching to lace their fingers together, Yuuri having removed his hands from Viktor’s shoulders and placed one on his thigh instead.

“I’m okay.” He assured after a moment of composing himself, voice mostly steady. _Now_ was what he didn’t say, but Yuuri appeared to know anyway, if the way his grip on Viktor’s hand tightened was anything to go by. Still, something akin to relief settled in his eyes, lips pulling into a soft smile.

“Then,” he glanced at Viktor’s empty plate briefly, eyes immediately returning to lock with his, “are you finished? I’m in no hurry, though.” He added almost as an afterthought.

“No, I’m done.” Viktor quickly assured him, deciding that getting away (as in, escaping the Great Hall to have Yuuri to himself) was a much better course of action than standing up to shout at the rest of the world to go to hell. “Let’s go.”

Yuuri’s smile turned fond. Viktor’s heart skipped a beat.

“Okay.” The Gryffindor agreed easily, standing up, effectively pulling Viktor with him as their hands were still linked. “Don’t worry,” he added to Chris, half-sincere and half-joking, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “I’ll return him later.”

Chris grinned from ear to ear while Sara, Loretta and Hilary had to cover their mouths to hide their surprised gasps and enormous grins as Viktor’s cheeks dusted pink. Ophelia might have rolled her eyes at them. Nate was once again looking like a fish on dry land.

“Take your time!” Chris lilted, sending Yuuri a wink. The Gryffindor smoothly winked right back, sending Mizuho into a fit of uncontrollable giggles, before placing a warm hand on the small of Viktor’s back to guide him out of the Great Hall.

“Did you bring your cloak?” Yuuri asked as they reached the Entrance Hall, retrieving his arm to pull out his own navy blue one from his pocket, returning it to its original size with a quick flick of his wand.

“Yeah.” Viktor quickly followed, allowing Yuuri to enlarge his wine-red cloak as well, as he already had his wand in hand, conveniently enough. And being the sweetest creature to ever walk on the surface of the Earth, the Gryffindor went ahead and draped the cloak around Viktor’s shoulders without any further ado.

The blush on Viktor’s already warming cheeks might have turned a shade or ten brighter due to the attention.

Emboldened by Yuuri’s actions, he dared slip his hand into the Gryffindor’s the moment his wand was tucked back inside his robes. Yuuri merely smiled, looking just as pleased and content as Viktor felt… if it weren’t for the slight crease on his brow.

“Is the unwanted attention bothering you?” he inquired as they exited the castle, heading towards the lake and out of earshot from the world. Viktor shook his head.

“Not exactly.” He replied, which felt like the answer closest to the truth, which he in turn had a hard time putting his finger on. “My friends are very supportive, fortunately, so it’s really nothing I can’t live with. Besides,” his allowed his mouth to curve into a smile, “what do they know?”

Yuuri smiled back, seemingly relieved, and he didn’t have to ask to know that ‘they’ didn’t refer to Viktor’s friends.

“Indeed, they know nothing.” He agreed, giving Viktor’s hand a squeeze. “It’s just that even if I could care less, I…” Viktor had to do a double take.

Yuuri was _blushing_. Rose red and beautiful.

While Viktor struggled to catch his breath due to the endearing sight, determination settled on Yuuri’s features as he turned his head to look at Viktor again.

“…I just… don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

Yup. That was it. That was how Viktor Nikiforov succumbed to and burned in the eternal flame that was Yuuri Katsuki’s existence and rose from the ashes like a silver phoenix with double the original power. His heart swelled to at least twice its size and his cheeks turned scarlet as he threatened to burst at the seams. He didn’t even realize he was squeezing Yuuri’s hand _tight_ before Yuuri, much more gently, squeezed right back.

Uh…

…he should probably respond, shouldn’t he?

Viktor worried his bottom lip slightly, feeling at a loss for words.

“…being uncomfortable with you is as impossible as quelling Gubraithian Fire.” He finally breathed out, voice miles and miles more quiet than usual. He flushed even more brightly when he realized he had voiced his thought aloud before having processed it properly first.

Yuuri didn’t comment, albeit it seemed his own blush had deepened, too, but simply stilled for a single, fleeting moment before releasing Viktor’s hand in favor of wrapping his arm around his waist instead, pulling him closer. Viktor leaned into the touch mostly on instinct, basking in the incredible warmth radiating from Yuuri and inhaling the distinct scent of fire, sandalwood and rain from his cloak.

In that small moment, he felt safer than he ever had in his life, and he was the son of Ilia Nikiforov.

“Gubraithian Fire, huh?” Yuuri voiced thoughtfully, speaking gently so as not to startle Viktor out of his own thoughts, “I heard the late Professor Dumbledore could conjure eternal fire. Has your father ever done that?”

“ _Da_.” Viktor answered without a second thought. “Ah, I mean, yes. He has.”

Yuuri looked incredibly intrigued, brown eyes sparkling, “Have you seen it?”

Viktor grinned, “What do you want to know?”

“Hmm…” Yuuri pondered theatrically, smile mischievous but eyes shining in genuine wonder, “…how about everything?”

Viktor wasted zero time before launching into an explanation as detailed as he could remember, Yuuri’s entire focus directed exactly where he wanted it. On _him_.

They walked, talked, and occasionally, they strolled in silence, but not in an awkward one. For Viktor, it somehow proved that simply being together, spending time alone on a misty Sunday afternoon was quite satisfying and not nearly enough. Leaving the scarring glares and poisonous whispers far behind, Viktor soon forgot about the resentment altogether.

Because why would he waste time mulling over such trivial, completely useless things when he was busy doubling over with laughter as Yuuri graciously shared yet another embarrassing story about himself “to prevent Phichit from telling them in the future”?

“And then, Iida-sensei came up to me and just _looked_ at my poor piggy with the most disapproving glare there ever was and goes ‘Katsuki, repeat the instructions’, and I go ‘Transform the piglet into a bucket, sensei’, while Takeshi is dying with laughter, not that he fared much better. Iida-sensei just looks me straight in the eye and deadpans ‘Then why, Katsuki, is your _bucket_ grunting and rolling around on the ground?”

“Harsh!” Viktor wheezed, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, “Transforming mammals into _anything_ is hard!”

“To be honest, I was quite relieved when Minako-sensei returned from Europe that time.” Yuuri confessed, almost a little sheepish. “Iida-sensei had high expectations.”

“Well, so does Professor Okukawa.”

Yuuri snorted, “You’re telling _me_ that? ‘Yuuri, I saw you transform a silver goblet into a white dove only yesterday, there’s no way you can convince me you _can’t_ do a grand jeté today!’”

Viktor had to stabilize himself on a nearby tree, clutching his stomach, “That doesn’t make any sense! But it does sound like Okukawa.”

Yuuri cocked an eyebrow, “Is Professor Baranovskaya any different, really?”

“Oh, no, Lilia’s probably worse.” Viktor agreed. “’Viktor, the crab we had for dinner yesterday was better at turn-outs than you!’”

Yuuri burst out laughing, bright and unrestrained, “I can _hear_ her saying that.”

“In Russian?”

Viktor-smartypants-Nikiforov, at your service.

Yuuri huffed another laugh and nudged him playfully in the ribs, causing Viktor to involuntarily yelp and giggle. That, for some reason, made the Gryffindor pause. Which, in turn, made Viktor pause.

 _…oops_.

Viktor knew for a fact that his life was about to come to an end when a wicked grin settled on tempting lips.

“Oh?” Yuuri mused, voice dropping an octave lower than usual, sending a shiver of anticipation down Viktor’s spine, which contrasted heavily with the dread pooling in his gut, “Really?”

_Run!_

Viktor let out an embarrassingly undignified squeak as his legs made some kind of half-hearted attempt to do as his brain told him to, but it was a lost cause from the very beginning. Probably because there was really no way he would ever object to having Yuuri’s hands all over him… even if said hands were tickling him into oblivion.

High-pitched laughter echoed across the lake, and Viktor realized in some kind of euphoric haze that the noise was coming from him. In a useless effort to save some of his thrown-away dignity, he tried tickling Yuuri back, which only resulted in a strong hand pinning both of his to the small of his back, the still free one continuing with its ministrations.

Yuuri was _quick_. And to Viktor’s defense, he was being tickled.

“Yuuuu-uuu-ri-iii, stop, stop, stop, STOP!” he all but shrieked, feeling his shoulders making contact with the tree behind him, meaning his escape plan to walk backwards had failed. Not that it really had been a _plan_ to begin with.

“Why?” Yuuri teased, but relented only a little to allow Viktor enough air to talk, hand still skimming along his ribs, making Viktor writhe and giggle in his grasp, “Give me a good enough reason to stop, and I’ll, uh, think about it.”

“Ah-ha-haaa…!” _say something, anything, just_ anything, “Go flying with me later!”

…now where did _that_ come from?

Everything from ‘kiss me’ to ‘let’s find a broom closet’ went left unsaid, and maybe Viktor was only a little relieved (and miles more disappointed) that he hadn’t said either of those. Yuuri might have only looked slightly bewildered compared to what Viktor felt inwardly, but as the surprised expression turned into a thoughtful one, Viktor let out a small sigh of relief.

It was only then that he fully registered that the tickling had ceased.

“Go flying with you later?” Yuuri repeated, contemplation turning into a more intrigued look as he cocked an eyebrow, “Later today?”

“Yes.” Viktor blurted out, unable to think properly as someone kindly had Evanescoed his brain. “Later. Flying. Today!”

 _…smooth, Nikiforov_.

Yuuri’s lips curved into a small, smug smile, “I thought I had to wait until Ravenclaw’s game against Hufflepuff to see you fly. Feeling bold?”

It took Viktor approximately a year to realize Yuuri was referring to their conversation during the date the previous day. Hence, he gave up a sheepish laugh, attempting a brilliant smile that probably was too over the top to be entirely believable.

“Very much so!”

No, not really. He wasn’t feeling that bold. But he would very much like to go flying with Yuuri anyway.

Yuuri shook his head, chuckling slightly, “You’re a terrible liar, Viktor.”

Actually, Viktor was a brilliant liar. Yuuri was just too good at seeing right through him, as if he was made of glass. It also might have had something to do with the tiny little fact that Viktor really wasn’t _actually_ trying to lie at all. Still, he smiled as innocently as humanly possible at the Gryffindor.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Yuuri huffed out a fond laugh, reaching up to straighten Viktor’s robes and cloak that had gotten messed up during the relentless tickle attack.

“Sure you don’t.”

All in all, they made it a couple (or was it three?) laps around the lake before Yuuri glanced down at his watch and then up at the castle, looking a little conflicted.

“I promised to meet Phichit in the common room to study at three…” he told Viktor, the hint of sadness in his voice making his already fragile heart ache, “…I’m sorry.”

Stomping down his disappointment, Viktor shook his head and smiled, “It’s okay, I really should head up to the Ravenclaw Tower to do the same. Chris is probably waiting… well, unless he’s, uh, busy with Louis of course.” That coaxed another laugh out of Yuuri, and Viktor’s smile only widened. “Don’t be sorry.”

“All right.” Yuuri agreed as they started walking towards the main entrance, hand in hand. “But… you were serious, earlier? Do you want to go flying for a while after dinner?”

Viktor could practically _feel_ his face light up and was quick to nod enthusiastically, making Yuuri laugh again. By Merlin that laugh was gorgeous.

“I’d like that.” He replied, cheeks pink, nuzzling Yuuri’s shoulder as they reached the Entrance Hall, suddenly remembering the hostility from earlier and instinctively wanting to disappear into his own world where only himself and Yuuri existed. Yuuri didn’t comment on his actions, but merely slipped his hand out of Viktor’s to place his arm around his waist again.

Yuuri insisted on walking him all the way to the Ravenclaw Tower corridor, keeping Viktor close and pointedly ignoring every little (much more careful) glance thrown their way, occasionally waving at friends in a greeting. As in _actual_ friends, Viktor reminded himself.

Approaching their destination however, something akin to a contemplative look once again settled on Yuuri’s features, laced with a hint of… something. Hesitation? Determination? Something else entirely?

It was only at that point Viktor realized he was mostly clinging to the Gryffindor rather than simply walking close to him, and that he had done so for what have must been quite a while without thinking or reflecting about it. Hit by the sudden realization rather than with embarrassment, he unintentionally slowed their shared pace, causing Yuuri to turn his head to look at him.

They had taken a shortcut from the sixth floor that Yuuri knew about for some reason or other (probably due to his corridor patrols as prefect and presently Head Boy), and they were alone, not another person in sight. Well, apart from the people in the portraits, of course, not that Viktor actually cared about those.

At all.

Once again without thinking or reflecting over his actions, being the impulsive person he was, Viktor threw all kind of hesitation and restraint out the window, grabbed Yuuri’s hand and all but dragged a very surprised Gryffindor with him to the closest alcove he could spot, right behind a statue of some bearded wizard or other, away from the eyes of the portraits and the world.

Yuuri was the silent voice of reason, catching on to Viktor’s obvious intentions quickly and grabbing both of his hands in his own, pausing them for a moment, holding up their joined hands between them. Meeting dark, burgundy eyes that posed a simple question without words and letting his own take in the sight before him, Viktor knew himself to be scarlet red, because Yuuri’s cheeks had flushed beautifully as well.

Viktor gently bit his bottom lip, heart pounding fiercely in his chest. In some kind of mute understanding, Yuuri pulled Viktor’s hand to his own chest and placed it there. The heart beneath the bone, flesh and fabric was clearly attempting to escape its confinements, just like Viktor’s own was trying to do, hammering hard against Yuuri’s ribcage.

Yuuri was, Viktor realized, just as nervous as him.

For probably the first time since he set eyes on the Gryffindor, he was reminded that Yuuri, gorgeous, confident Yuuri, was just as much human as he was. Yuuri was fully capable of being surprised (judging by the look on his face when Viktor had pulled him into the alcove), he could get flustered (the current blush on his cheeks confirmed it well enough), and behind the aura of absolute perfection Viktor himself had veiled around him, there was _Yuuri_.

Just… Yuuri.

Well, it wasn’t as if Viktor really wanted anything else than “just Yuuri” anyway. Ever.

It was that realization that flipped the switch, his gaze dropping down from Yuuri’s eyes to settle on alluringly pink lips.

Once, Viktor might have fantasized (actually, that was the previous night) of experiencing his first kiss on top of the Astronomy Tower with the stars as his witness in the middle of a moonlit night. That fantasy was quickly forgotten, however, because he was about to share his first ever kiss with Yuuri in an alcove in a mostly overlooked corridor on the seventh floor, and somehow, that was infinitely better.

He gave Yuuri enough time to pull his glasses up and place them on his head before grabbing smooth cheeks in both hands and pulling the Gryffindor towards him. It was only Yuuri’s hands coming to cup his own cheeks that slowed the movement down enough for them to, instead of colliding and possibly clacking teeth, simply lean in and meet halfway, slow and soft.

The pent-up impatience dissolved from Viktor’s soul in the comfort of their shared kiss. No teeth, no tongue, but only plush lips attempting to find a common rhythm, a language they and they alone could understand.

Yuuri shifted his right hand to settle more comfortably against Viktor’s cheek, thumb resting right below his ear, and Viktor once again found himself completely pliant in Yuuri’s secure hold. He used the wall behind him to keep himself upright, resting his upper back against it, while allowing his hands to release their hold on Yuuri’s cheeks, unsure of what to do exactly, but knowing he wanted to _feel_.

With tentative fingertips, he felt warm, smooth skin, and then silky raven locks, mindful not to accidentally run into Yuuri’s glasses. In turn, he felt one of Yuuri’s hands wander to carefully run through silver strands, as if worried about accidentally pulling on a knot (there were none of those; Viktor’s mother had seen to it he knew all the necessary spells to take care of his long hair). The hand then retreated to settle on the nape of his neck instead, staying there.

Apparently, Yuuri didn’t really know what to do with his hands either.

Viktor relaxed until all that was left was a pile of goo. He had never been drunk before, but he was suddenly absolutely certain what being drunk it felt like. Or at least, what it felt like being intoxicated on Yuuri.

When the Gryffindor made a half-hearted, hesitant attempt to pull away, Viktor chased the addictive lips and pulled him right back, causing Yuuri to smile into the kiss. Later, Viktor would look back and at their first kiss and think of it in terms of innocent and sweet (it was), but in that moment, it was all so pleasantly hot that it felt as if his entire being was on fire.

Yuuri _was_ fire, an undying flame, and Viktor knew he would gladly burn its blaze over and over if it meant he got to stay like that forever.

It was still Yuuri who slowly, reluctantly had the self-control to pull away, tracing a thumb over Viktor’s bottom lip, looking at what must have been a pair of kiss-swollen folds in silent wonder. By the time he looked up to meet Viktor’s eyes, he was smiling. Viktor in turn could only stare, too busy drinking in the image displayed before him, which he wanted to etch into his brain in excruciating detail.

Actually, he really should just get himself a pensieve to keep the memory intact and sharp for eternity.

Yuuri’s cheeks were flushed fiery red and hot, the black of his pupils having swallowed most of the iris and left a ring of maroon gold around the edges, lips rosy pink and swollen pulled up in an affectionate smile. The blush had spread all the way down his neck, and Viktor was really, very curious to know how far down the burning glow actually reached.

As if wanting to reassure them both that none of what had passed was a dream, Yuuri leaned in to peck Viktor on the lips one more time, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“As much as I’d like to not go, I really do have to.” He gently reminded Viktor, running his thumb along his jawline. He tilted his head slightly, using his other hand to place his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. “I might have told you before, but… you’re beautiful.”

Viktor wasn’t entirely sure that internally dying more than five times a day was good for his health, but he couldn’t pretend to be complaining about it. Suddenly feeling a little bashful, he sought comfort by burying his head into the crook of Yuuri’s neck before replying:

“You’re gorgeous.”

Good enough revenge, he figured. Probably. At least it was worth the satisfaction that followed when Yuuri nuzzled his neck in turn, arms around his waist in a tight embrace.

While he gladly would have stayed just like that for the rest of the day, Viktor stomped down his disappointment when Yuuri pulled away by stealing one final kiss before exiting the alcove hand in hand with, well, damnit, his…

“Boyfriend.” He tasted the word aloud without thinking. Yuuri hummed, squeezing his hand.

“I would hope so, yes.”

Viktor’s heart swelled, spreading warmth from his chest all the way down to his toes. _Boyfriend_. That sounded… terribly nice. Amazing.

Almost overwhelming.

When Yuuri with one final smile and wave disappeared around the corner, headed for the Gryffindor Tower, Viktor glanced down at his watch. He grinned. Yuuri was a good twenty minutes late for his study session with Phichit, and a pleasant wave of smug satisfaction washed over him at the realization, feeling utterly unapologetic about the distraction he had caused.

 _He_ was the reason Yuuri was late. That really should have earned him a gold medal at the least.

 

Chris wasted no time dragging Viktor up to their dorm to avoid the curious glances from their housemates, and they were joined by Louis and, a little surprisingly to Viktor, Seung-Gil, as the two seniors apparently were trying to work on their Transfigurations-assignment together. Pulling out their work, Viktor dived straight into his half-done Potions-essay, willing himself to get it done before dinner so as not to have to finish it in the middle of the night.

“Are you seeing him later?” Chris asked when he paused his writing to dip his quill into a vial of ink.

“ _Da_.” Viktor replied absentmindedly in Russian, his thoughts half-focused on the essay while his mind stubbornly supplied him with vivid memories of the incident in the alcove less than an hour ago. “After dinner. We’re taking to the skies.”

Chris cocked an eyebrow, “You’re going flying?” his face broke into a grin, “That’s cool. Do you think he’ll let you try that fancy Japanese broom of his?”

“It’s a Yajirushi.” Seung-Gil provided in his stoic manner, never looking up from his complex formulas. “He got it as a birthday present when he turned 17 last year from his family. While it might not be as fast as a Firebolt, it beats it in accuracy and fine-tuning, which in Katsuki’s control turns it into a Keeper’s nightmare.”

That was probably the longest set of words Viktor had ever heard Seung-Gil utter in one go, and he absolutely couldn’t believe his ears. Neither, it seemed, could Chris, but Louis didn’t look too surprised, merely intrigued.

“…did you just compliment Katsuki’s Quidditch skills?” Louis asked in something akin to both amazement and amusement.

Seung-Gil didn’t even blush, “Every person with a pair of eyes can see that Katsuki is a brilliant Chaser; it would be foolish, especially for a Keeper like myself, to underestimate and, even worse, to undermine his skills in any way.”

“Speaking of which,” Viktor remembered then, “did you know he used to play as Seeker back at Mahoutokoro?”

Apparently, they didn’t, judging by the three wide pairs of eyes turning their full attention to him.

“He did?” Chris asked, looking like he was in need of a map and a compass in order to find his way to more elaborate expressions.

“Yeah!” Viktor nodded, grinning brightly, “He switched to Chaser because he found that Phichit was a better Seeker than him, partially because he has better eye-sight, and also because Yuuri has the stamina a Chaser needs.”

“Well, looking at his figure, it isn’t too surprising, I suppose.” Seung-Gil shrugged, returning to his work, “And that explains why he can do a Wronski feint; I’ve been wondering about that.”

Viktor dropped the quill and his jaw along with it.

“He can do _what-?_ ” he snapped his head in Chris’ direction with an accusing glare, “You never told me!”

Chris grinned, “Might have slipped my mind.” He offered, entirely unapologetic. “Honestly, I wanted to see your face if he would happen to use it in a game this year, but you didn’t disappoint this way, either.” He paused, pondering. “But now that I think about it, he’s only used it once out of pure necessity during a game, so it’s highly unlikely you would have gotten to experience it that way.”

“It was raining cats and dogs during the opening game between Gryffindor and Slytherin last year, and the Quaffle slipped from Babicheva’s hands when Popovich tackled her.” Seung-Gil reminisced, quill still moving steadily across the paper as if he didn’t need his brain in order to recall a game of Quidditch. Or to write a Transfigurations-essay.

“She did a Sloth Grip Roll to lessen the impact, but lost the ball. Yuuri made a straight-down dive after it to catch it before the ball hit the ground and prevent the game from being blown off. If it had, the Quaffle would have been given to Slytherin. He caught it about a meter above the ground, did a 180 degree turn and passed it up to Minami, who scored. Chulanont caught the Snitch about five minutes later, leaving Slytherin defeated with 30 points to 280.”

“Seung-Gil remembers, in detail, every Quidditch game he’s ever seen and played, and there are quite a few of those.” Louis explained to Viktor with a grin. Seung-Gil’s lips formed a thin line as he let out a small huff, but did nothing to object to the comment.

“Wow!” Viktor exclaimed enthusiastically, suddenly having discovered a newfound admiration for his stone-faced senior, “Every single one?”

“From about age four and up.” Seung-Gil confirmed.

_Wow!_

“He _especially_ remembers the Gryffindor games-“ Louis began, but was this time immediately silenced by a glare so deadly cold and intense he just held up his hands in surrender, “Sorry, sorry! It’s true, though!”

Ignoring Viktor and Chris’ curious gazes, the Korean huffed again.

“They have impressive players.” He replied curtly, as if stating an obvious fact, like that Merlin had had a beard, but he was also quite obviously attempting to hide the tiniest hint of a pale blush on his cheeks by determinedly continuing to write. “Are we going to finish these essays or not?”

Viktor actually managed to finish his essay before dinner. Barely.

 

**

 

Chris had kissed his boyfriend (who had an early-morning Herbology class in front of him) goodnight about ten minutes before Viktor returned to the Ravenclaw Tower that night, right before curfew. Until then, Chris was alone in the common room, comfortably seated in the armchair by the fireplace, halfway through _The Lady of the Ashes_ by Hannelore Gentleflower (yes, he liked sappy romance novels, and this particular one he had borrowed from Viktor, who happened to share that particular guilty pleasure of his).

Hearing the door to the common room open, Chris placed his finger right beneath the word “concupiscence” to look up at Viktor, grinning at the display of the Russian, silver hair flowing free from the restraints of the usual blue velvet band, practically waltzing over to the couch and flopping down on it, staring dreamily up at the ceiling with a faraway expression. His Firebolt still hung loosely in his hand, hair cascading towards the floor like a waterfall, cheeks flushed pink and a blissful, goofy smile on his lips.

Chris gave him a moment before speaking:

“That good a time, hm?” he tentatively asked when he was a little more certain that at least some part of Viktor’s brain had returned to the Ravenclaw common room along with his physical body. However, he was not prepared for the reply.

“ _Ya yego lyublyu…_ I love him.”

Viktor’s voice was quiet, breathless, filled to the brim with adoration and affection, like he was afraid to burst at the seams if he spoke any louder. Chris blinked.

Well… not that it was all too unexpected but…

He took the revelation as his cue to mark the page and place Gentleflower’s steamy novel on the table before clearing his throat.

“You do?” he inquired softly, fighting the mischievousness of his grin from slipping into his voice.

“I love him.” Viktor repeated, just as reverently as before. “He’s… perfect.”

Chris knew Viktor thought Yuuri was perfect, but still found the need to make him talk further, “Elaborate?”

Half a request, half a demand. Viktor closed his eyes, the blissful smile widening to something euphorically bright on his ivory features.

“He… makes me feel like I’m on top of the world. Like I’m the only one _in_ the world. Like nothing else matters but me. Us.” He inhaled deeply, exhaling in a sweet sigh. “I feel…” an unfairly pretty blush spread across already rosy cheeks, “…loved.”

 _Oh, wow_.

“That’s a lot of praise.” Chris mused, processing Viktor’s words. “I gather your little flying date went well.”

For the first time since dancing into the common room, Viktor pulled his head away from shimmering rainbow clouds to turn and look at him.

“ _Well?_ ” he echoed in slight disbelief, “It was _amazing!_ I even got to try the Yajirushi, it’s incredible; I swear that broom can read thoughts. And Yuuri did a Wronski feint… or two, actually.”

“He let you try his broom on your own?”

“Well, both on my own and together with him.” Viktor explained, mind seemingly wandering back to the Quidditch pitch, probably reminiscing the wind in his long, silver locks and his arms around Yuuri’s waist or something similar. “He did a Wronski feint on his own, then with both of us on the broom.”

That made Chris sit up straight, “He did _what?_ ”

“As per my persistent request.” Viktor grinned cheekily, completely unapologetic. “But, to be fair, it wasn’t _quite_ a Wronski feint he did with both of us on the broom, because he stopped almost two meters above the ground before pulling back up, but when he did it alone, he flew close enough to the ground to have been able to touch it… like a proper Wronski feint is supposed to be done.”

“Of course he would take responsibility.” Chris agreed, leaning back in the armchair, internally letting out a sigh of relief. “I almost thought I would have some scolding to do.”

“He was so _steady!_ ” Viktor gushed enthusiastically, not ignoring but choosing not to comment on Chris’ previous statement. Probably because he knew he was half-joking. Only half, though. “He flies like he’s dancing.”

“I know.” Chris reminded his best friend, amused. “Those thighs aren’t really anything to mess with. So,” he tilted his head, “are you seeing him tomorrow?”

“Every single day, as far as I’m concerned.” Viktor sighed deeply, sinking back onto the couch. “We’re meeting up for a while after dinnertime tomorrow, he has Quidditch practice after classes.” Fatigue finally seeming to catch up to him, Viktor yawned, stretching like a cat, still-growing limbs seemingly getting longer by the day. It wouldn’t be long until the growth spurt would make him more than just a centimeter or two taller than Yuuri, Chris thought.

“I’m going to take a quick bath and head to bed.” Viktor informed him, sitting up and grabbing his Firebolt. “Potions tomorrow morning.”

Chris hummed in agreement, picking up Gentleflower’s book from the table, “Yeah.” Still, he couldn’t resist voicing aloud what he had restrained himself from commenting on earlier the same day: “You know, this afternoon, I was going to ask if you’d kissed yet, and you showed up with _definitely_ kissed lips, but now, you mostly look like you’ve visited a broom closet. I’ll have to congratulate you on the massive feat of making it past the knocker.”

Viktor, red all the way to his ears, reflexively threw the closest couch pillow in his direction, and then had to produce his wand to prevent the innocent cushion from burning and fix it back to good health. Chris dropped the book in laughter.

 

**

 

“Look who’s back.” Phichit grinned, eyes twinkling as Yuuri entered the Gryffindor common room an hour past curfew, hair still a little damp after a quick detour to the prefects’ bathroom, which he had visited before doing the obligatory patrolling rounds and barely making it to the Gryffindor Tower before his own curfew.

Phichit was eyeing his hair, “Don’t tell me you dragged the puffskein off to share a bath with you? Not everyone is accustomed to onsens.”

“As a matter of fact, I did no such thing.” Yuuri informed him, flopping down in the armchair, Phichit taking up the majority of the couch together with Pumpkin, Sir Edmund III and Grumpypants, as in his hamsters. Yuuri still pretended not to know that poor Grumpypants, that was probably the least grumpy of them all, only got his name because of his black-furred back and fair underside, which made him resemble a certain Ravenclaw prefect. “I walked with him to the Ravenclaw Tower corridor first before heading to the bath.”

“And started your rounds a few minutes later than you should.” Phichit gathered. “Kissed him goodnight?” he added innocently, batting his eyelashes sweetly. Yuuri rolled his eyes, but there was no covering the blush and fond smile spreading on his features.

“I’m not entirely sure if I kissed him or got kissed, to be honest.” He admitted, reminiscing Viktor having initiated both their first and their second kiss, all in one day. He was altogether insatiable, and Yuuri would lie if he were to say he wasn’t happy to comply.

Phichit whistled suggestively, making Yuuri roll his eyes again.

“Honestly, though,” the Thai spoke further, sitting up enough to look at Yuuri comfortably, grabbing Sir Edmund III from inside his sleeve to place him on his chest instead, “I have to say I’m surprised, in a good way. Not that you’ve ever really failed to surprise so far.” Yuuri cocked an eyebrow in a silent ‘elaborate, please.’ “I almost thought you were…” he was about to gesture with his hands when he remembered he had hamsters all over him and stopped the movement, “…I don’t even know, ace or something, since you never even seemed interested in anyone that approached you, and then you just go approach someone _yourself_.” He tilted his head. “Where has this smooth charmer been hidden, Yuuuuuri?”

Yuuri’s cheeks were burning crimson by the time Phichit was (momentarily) finished. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“I…” he paused, furrowing his brows, “…I…” _ugh_ , “honestly, I have no idea. And I really _haven’t_ been interested before, but then this veela-like being appears out of nowhere and…” he gestured helplessly. What was he supposed to do then, when Viktor pulled him in like the moon does to the tide?

He didn’t voice the last thought aloud, though.

“Now, this does feel a little more familiar.” Phichit pondered, studying Yuuri’s flaming cheeks. “Yeah, this looks like the Yuuri back in our dorm after the start-of-term banquet; flustered up to the ears due to having somehow summoned the courage to _wink_ at the ‘veela-like being.’” He tilted his head again. “You still don’t think he’s a veela, though?”

“He isn’t.” Yuuri shook his head, running a hand through still slightly damp locks. “I asked if he had veelas in the family, and he was quite sure he didn’t. And if he was, I would be a constant quivering mess around him, and I would never have been able to even think about winking at him, much less approach him.”

 _He’s beyond beautiful enough to be one, though._ That thought also went unsaid.

“From what I’ve gathered it’s the opposite, really.” Phichit mused. “He’s the one who’s a mess around you.”

“Maybe that’s it?” Yuuri suggested, contemplatively studying the Gryffindor coat of arms above the fireplace, “Maybe I have an easier time being comfortable and confident around him because I want to, you know, reassure him?”

“Protect him, by the looks of it.” Phichit stated, and Yuuri barely managed to hold back choke, covering it up with a coughed-out laugh.

“Sure.” He agreed jokingly, hoping the fleeting sense of a knot tightening in his stomach didn’t show on his face. He pushed down the unwelcome feeling in favor of thinking about Viktor.

The moment he had entered the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony, Yuuri knew his world was about to run straight into a cloud of Limbo Mist and turn upside down. Viktor Nikiforov was some kind of otherworldly being with his very much veela-reminiscent hair spun from silver and starlight, pearly skin that looked unimaginably beautiful when adorned by a spring rose blush, and striking blue eyes that viewed the world in constant wonder and unhindered amazement. He smiled so brightly the sun could only cover its face in defeat, and his laughter was like silver bells, tingling and clear in all its softness, cheerful and oh so joyous Yuuri’s heart threatened to burst at the sound.

Yuuri had gone to bed the night after the banquet with only Viktor in mind. For the first time in his almost 18 years on Earth, he was drawn to another person like a moth to a flame, and that just _had_ to mean something. Right?

Then there had been the fact, which Phichit graciously had pointed out several times, that Viktor seemingly couldn’t look at anyone but Yuuri whenever they found themselves in the same room at the same time. After the _incident_ during the first Hogsmeade weekend (which Yuuri still swore he would have his revenge on, by Merlin’s magnificent beard), he had decided to see if all of it really was true.

He also decided that a flustered Viktor was the most adorable thing in existence, and he absolutely hadn’t been able to restrain himself from teasing the poor Ravenclaw just a little during dance class. Viktor had endearingly shyly admitted he had liked it, earlier the same day.

Running into the angel of his dreams in the owlery had not been planned in any way. In fact, Yuuri had gone up there that morning to send his family a letter (like he had done) and try to think of some way or other to approach Viktor without the entire student body hanging over their shoulders. The answer had been served on a silver platter as he had found the Russian Veela right there alone in the tower.

He had never been as close to a cardiac arrest before, but the chance to talk to Viktor without anyone else interrupting or listening in was too good to pass up. Hence, Yuuri had thrown his brain out the window, thanked the Anti-Anxiety Elixir for being easy enough to make, and asked Viktor out. Still, he had been internally screaming at the top of his lungs while waiting for him to reply.

The internal sigh of relief that followed was eternally long when Viktor had told him yes.

As if he wasn’t already the living and breathing image of all Yuuri’s dreams, Viktor was impossibly more adorable and downright bewitching up close. When he stopped stuttering (which, really, was endearing) and relaxed, his sapphire gems shimmered in delight as he dived straight into any topic of discussion with unbridled enthusiasm and unadulterated excitement.

Not to even mention that he looked like something straight out of a fairy tale when he danced, expressive in every move and in complete control of his limbs despite the obvious growth spurt he was going through, his technique impeccably precise. Beautifully extravagant was the closest Yuuri had come to describing Viktor’s dancing, if that in any way made sense.

Apparently, it was the same when he mounted a broom. In the air, Viktor was light and quick, Firebolt securely clutched in slender hands and in between strong thighs. That combined with the backlight of the setting sun, he had looked like a fairy.

There also wasn’t a single doubt that Viktor would give Phichit and Gryffindor a really, really tough challenge when the last Quidditch game of the season would roll around in May.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Yuuri could still feel Viktor’s arms tightly wrapped around his waist, lithe and limber body pressed up flush against his back as he had used every ounce of willpower (which he, thankfully, was blessed with a decent amount of) not to get distracted while concentrating hard on the task of performing an almost-Wronski feint with the both of them on his trusted broomstick. The _feeling_ more than the sound of Viktor’s unrestrained, delighted laughter as he did the 180-degree turn and shot straight back up towards the skies was still fresh in his memory.

 Viktor was addictive; a drug all too powerful for Yuuri to resist. Not that he wanted to.

“Still, I’m impressed you had the guts to flirt with him so openly, never mind asking him out.” Phichit insisted, shooting him a wink while attempting to gather his rodent companions into his arms. “Whatever got into you, Katsuki?”

Yuuri willed his suddenly harshly beating heart to keep calm, letting out a laugh and hoping his cheeks weren’t the same shade as the Gryffindor banner while sheepishly scratching his neck.

“I’m a selfish person, Phichit-kun.” He reminded his best friend. “I suppose I wanted him all to myself, or something equally horrible.”

Phichit barked out a laugh, “You’ve got a point; if you hadn’t asked him, someone else would have. Half the school must be in love with him.” A thoughtful look settled on his features. “But do you really think he would have told anyone else yes?”

Yuuri could only shrug, “No idea. Maybe not.”

“I’m going to bet he wouldn’t have. Too smitten.”

“You were the one to ask.”

“Details.” Phichit waved it off, then yawned broadly. “Bedtime, Yuuri! We have an early morning ahead of us.”

Yuuri huffed a laugh, “Which one of us _doesn’t_ have Herbology tomorrow morning again?”

“Hey!” Phichit pouted, “I’ve still got an early-morning breakfast.”

“That’s your own choice, and thereby your own fault.” Yuuri reminded him. “You’ve got no other reason to join me for breakfast that early other than to-“

“ _Bedtime, Katsuki!_ ”

 

**

 

“Anything?”

Professor Cialdini offered the Headmistress a tired smile, shaking his head.

“Nothing.”

Minerva McGonagall examined him for a moment with eyes sharper than the edge of Gryffindor’s sword, age seemingly unable to dull them in the slightest. Then, she pulled her lips into a paper-thin line, reaching for her quill and a piece of parchment.

“Tell him to be on guard; Ilia Nikiforov reported a figure in black outside their apartment not even a week ago, as you know.” Her handwriting was precise and without any unnecessary embroideries, just like the witch herself; always straight to the point. “The boy is an excellent wizard for his age, as we have agreed on many times, but he’s no auror.”

Professor Cialdini nodded in agreement, “I’m aware. I’ll talk to him, and I’ll continue keeping an eye out myself.”

“Preferably two, Celestino.”

“Of course.” The DADA-teacher assured. “And Hogsmeade visits?”

“Nothing new; the Nikiforov’s don’t want to limit them any more than they’ve already done for now.” The Headmistress looked up again, gaze steady and unwavering. “Make sure, Celestino, that Viktor under no circumstances is left on his own.”

Professor Cialdini couldn’t help the small smile playing on his lips.

“I really don’t think that’s anything to worry about, but I’ll make sure.”

The small twitch in the corner of Professor McGonagall’s mouth was so quick and miniscule that had he blinked, he would have missed it.

“Indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have an extra long chapter because there was no way I was cutting this in half!
> 
> Also, I'm alive! I think. It took me two weeks to recover properly from dance festival madness (6500 participants, 204 000 spectators, 108 kilometers covered on foot in seven days, and I was very much DONE the following Monday), and then my best friend went ahead and gave birth, so there was that little interlude, too. Also, we're adopting a cat. Many things!
> 
> (No, I've done nothing concerning my, hopefully, final year of studies yet. My half-done research plan from the beginning of June is glaring daggers at me *whimper* I'm sorry!)
> 
> About Yuuri's broom, I decided to just go ahead and use the only Japanese broom in the known canon universe, and tweaked it a little so it's more of a "Yajirushi prototype" than the broom described in the HP-wiki (originally described in the Pottermore article Place your bets with Ludo Bagman). I made the decision due to the fact that the Yajirushi described on the wiki was "unveiled for the first time during the 2014 Quidditch World Cup", and thus wouldn't have been available during the time the events in the fic are taking place (i.e. in the mid 2000's).
> 
> I have MANY things to catch up to, both in the real world and on the internet (such as replying to all your heartwarming comments, I'm so sorry, I haven't forgotten, and I will get to it as soon as I can!), but I hope to be able to maintain a more steady schedule again from now on. The upcoming weekend my childhood friend is getting married, though, so that might mess it up a bit again... we'll see :) (I'm so happy for her I might burst at the seams like Viktor is about to do in this fic, not that I might have projected any of my own feelings into my writing or anything, why do you ask?).
> 
> I very much hope you enjoyed the read, and that you've all had a pleasant summer so far <3 hugs!


	8. More than you can see

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Quidditch season is kicking off. Viktor has secrets. He isn't the only one.

Viktor pulled his knees to his chest in the window alcove in the dormitory, watching the drizzling rain run in streaks across the glass. He couldn’t see much else as it was already dark outside, barely able to make out the silhouettes of a couple of nearby towers. November had rolled around all too quickly, and Viktor was certain that in a couple or so weeks, snow would finally replace the endless dampness.

He crossed his fingers in a wish for better weather the following day. The Quidditch season was about to kick off with Gryffindor and Slytherin going up against one another, and Viktor would very much prefer staying dry while cheering Yuuri on from the sidelines.

The upcoming game was also the reason he currently found himself alone in the dorm, as Yuuri had ordered the Gryffindor team to get a good night’s sleep after a last-minute strategy meeting in the house common room. Chris and Louis were still all cuddled up and cozy in the common room, and Nate and Sherwood were probably still in the middle of a mini-tournament of Exploding Snap with a couple of fifth years. Hence, Viktor had seized the opportunity to just get some time all to himself, sit back, and attempting to straighten out his thoughts.

His gaze momentarily wandered over to the stacks of books and parchment on the study table by the other window, and heaved a sigh. The teachers were currently putting them through tough pre-winter break-exams, and for the past month, Viktor had more often than not spent time in a secluded corner of the library with Yuuri, Chris, Louis, Phichit, and Seung-Gil, frantically trying to get all the assignments done in time and cram all the new information into his head. The seniors offered him and Chris a helping hand from time to time, but avoided giving them answers straight-up. Not even Viktor’s puppy eyes made Yuuri budge.

He had learned that Yuuri was just about as headstrong as his own mother, and that was just completely unfair at times. In combination with Viktor’s own stubbornness, it sometimes resulted in Viktor sulking when Yuuri told him no, but the Gryffindor always made up for it with the kind of affection he knew Viktor loved the most: hugs, cuddles and kisses.

…and sometimes a bit more than that, if they could find a space to be alone in.

The initial jealousy surrounding their relationship had mostly died down, fortunately. It probably helped that the rumor of Viktor being the only one in dance class, apart from the teachers, who could keep up Yuuri on the dance floor. It had been discovered when Professor Okukawa had asked Yuuri to demonstrate an Argentinian tango, and Yuuri had pulled Viktor onto the floor with him.

They had never danced tango together before back then, but Viktor had had no trouble following Yuuri’s lead, feeling so bold halfway through that he momentarily took control himself, leading Yuuri for a while before handing the lead right back over to him (mostly because there was something terribly thrilling about having Yuuri perform the lifts). Yuuri had easily allowed Viktor to take control and then accepted it back when offered, a delighted look of surprise on his face.

Completely worth it.

Okukawa had sung praises, and the dilemma of the group losing a member the following week (Michele’s partner decided the chess club that gathered the same time on Thursdays was what he actually wanted to attend) had been solved by Sara’s partner, Emil Nekola, being paired up with Michele, Mila pairing up with Sara, and Viktor all but threw himself in Yuuri’s arms in joy. Since then, the two had become Okukawa’s default demonstration couple.

“Just you wait.” Yuuri had grinned at him after their class the previous night. “They’re going to ask you to assist them next year.”

Viktor had laughed at first, and then been reminded of the fact that Yuuri wouldn’t be at Hogwarts the following year at all. The Gryffindor hadn’t needed to ask what the matter was when Viktor curled up in his lap that evening in the Ravenclaw common room after a shared bath in the prefects’ bathroom.

Yes, they had made a habit of bathing together in the prefects’ bathroom after dance practice. Viktor, who never really had had an issue with being naked, had still been a little flustered the first time they had done it, because Yuuri was the definition of delicious in his naked state. Lean yet soft, and Chris would probably kill for his thighs. Not to mention his ass.

Viktor made a point of flustering Yuuri (that unfair bastard) right back, making a show of undressing himself, feeling utterly and smugly satisfied when he felt the Gryffindor’s gaze linger on his own back side. He also made a point of settling himself comfortably by Yuuri’s side in the bath, eventually ending up in his lap trading sloppy kisses and barely managing to keep their hands… well, everywhere but where they actually wanted them.

They had been really, really lucky no one had walked in on them.

It was after that first bath together that they had acquainted themselves a little more thoroughly with an abandoned classroom in the overlooked corridor where they had shared their first kiss. The morning after, Viktor had stayed a little longer than necessary in the dorm bathroom to marvel at the blossoming marks all over his upper body, satisfied knowing Yuuri would have a fair share gifted by him in turn.

Chris had been gracious enough not to ask for too many details, but Viktor still felt he had to make it clear they hadn’t gone all the way. Not then, and not yet.

Maybe they could talk about it when winter break rolled around. They were both staying at the castle over the holidays, and Viktor would be turning seventeen on Christmas day, after all…

_Knock, knock, knock!_

Startled out of his thoughts abruptly, Viktor almost hit his head as he sat up straight and looked through the window properly for the first time during the entire evening. His jaw dropped, along with his heart sinking down to his stomach.

“Sofiya?”

The snow-white owl fluttered through the window the second Viktor opened it, hooting in annoyance over not having been let in immediately, sticking out her leg. Viktor swallowed, closing the window and pulling out his wand, pointing at the offered letter with his heart pounding hard in his chest.

“Specialis revelio.”

…

Nothing.

Without further ado, Viktor flicked his wand and freed Sofiya from her burden, opening the letter with trembling fingers. Considering it had been delivered immediately and not arrived with the rest of the mail the following morning, something was clearly not as it should be. With dread pooling in his gut and heart pounding hard in his chest, he unfolded the letter, immediately met by his mother’s elegant handwriting.

But…

Viktor frowned, then produced his wand again, “Familia revelio.”

That did the trick, and Viktor watched the Cyrillic letters rearranging themselves on the paper for his eyes only. He let out an involuntary laugh of surprised when he realized his mother, the genius, had not only coded the message, but also decided to write the letter in English using the Cyrillic alphabet.

The contents, however, were no laughing matter at all.

 

_My star,_

_We decided to send Sofiya with this letter right away, because the sooner you know, the better. I still dearly hope that the news will not keep you from getting some much-needed sleep, so know this immediately: we’re safe, Vitya. Both Papa and myself, and of course your darling Makkachin._

_You see, a few days back the aurors managed to lay their hands on yet another letter containing horrifying spells that had been addressed directly to Beaumont Street, and last night, Mr. Potter and Mr. Longbottom spotted a dark figure that fit the description of the person your papa saw back in October. They attempted to neutralize the figure for interrogation, but the person disappeared before they could Stupefy it._

_It’s clear that Inferno knew of Beaumont Street, and hence, we have been forced to move away from there._

_Our new location is secured to the absolute maximum, and because of that, I can’t reveal our exact whereabouts to you. Not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t; you see, this place is protected by a Secret Keeper, and only that person can tell you where to find us. Should the absolute need arise that you need to move here, too, you must turn to the Headmistress immediately. Those were the instructions given by Mrs. Granger._

_I write to you now to assure you that we’re safe, and now we have to further make certain you stay safe, too. Therefore, it pains me to have to tell you that you under no circumstances may leave the castle grounds any longer. Visiting Hogsmeade is too great a risk, because if Inferno knew of Beaumont Street, there is no doubt they know of your whereabouts as well._

_The Headmistress has been informed of our decision, and has furthered the information to Professor Cialdini (the former auror), and to Yakov. I’m very sorry it has to be this way, my star. I hope you understand we only want to insure your safety as much as we can from this distance._

_We miss you dearly, and Makkachin unquestionably misses you the most. She knows exactly who I’m writing to, so I’m going to send all those kisses she’s gifting my hand with further on to you._

_Stay safe, Vitya._

_Love, Mama and Papa_

 

…well. A Potion for Dreamless Sleep would have been very welcome after that kind of information.

Viktor didn’t even notice the tears running down his cheeks before they landed on the parchment, dropping down beyond control to soak the paper. He clutched the message to his chest, a sob escaping trembling lips as he squeezed his eyes shut.

_They’re safe, they’re safe, they’re safe…!_

Not reassuring enough.

The fear hadn’t been as tangible to him since they had made it to London by the end of August and moved to Beaumont Street, but now, the crippling unease and anxiousness spread like fast-growing weed through the garden of safety he had surrounded himself with.

They were _not_ safe. Which meant that _he_ wasn’t safe, either. No matter how much his mother told him otherwise, and how much he wanted to believe her.

The Hogsmeade visits suddenly felt like they were the least of his concerns.

…except that he now had to somehow explain to Yuuri that “yes, I’d still like to go on a date next Saturday as planned, but can we go on a date _not_ to Hogsmeade, and also, can we go on no more dates to Hogsmeade at all and just have them within the castle walls instead?”, and further, he had to figure out something to tell Chris.

Wiping tears from his eyes, Viktor sighed heavily, burying his head in his hands.

He wanted to tell them. Both of them.

…but he had _sworn_ he wouldn’t tell anyone, and really, he didn’t want to worry either of them. Yuuri would undoubtedly never leave his side after that, and while Viktor really wouldn’t actually wish for anything less, he couldn’t stand the thought of Yuuri doing so simply because he was _worried_.

Simply put, he would have to come up with another explanation.

He let Sofiya out through the window so she could get some rest in the owlery, then used an Evanesco-spell on the letter and slid under the covers. Feigning sleep when Nate and Sherwood arrived some time later, and then again when Chris entered the dorm around midnight, Viktor ended up staring at the ceiling of his four-poster bed for hours after the others had fallen asleep. With the shadow of fear looming over his mind, he barely slept that night.

 

**

 

“ _Davai_.” Viktor smiled at his boyfriend, praying the dark circles under his eyes weren’t visible under the disguise of the make-up and a handy little spell. “That’s Russian for ‘break a leg.’”

Yuuri smiled, cupping Viktor’s cheek and leaning in to kiss him, and Viktor clutched Yuuri’s shoulders, fists tightening in the fabric of his robes. They lingered there long enough for someone (Phichit) to wolf-whistle at them from behind, and only then did Yuuri reluctantly pull back.

“See you later.”

Viktor grinned, “Am I invited to celebrate?”

“You mean invited to mope when you lose, Katsuki.”

Yuuri grazed the Slytherin team captain and Viktor’s classmate, Jean-Jacques Leroy, with a laugh, but it was Mila who sassed back.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, JJ.” She told him. “The lion beats the snake.”

“Unless the snake bites and gets the last laugh.” JJ replied easily, confident grin on his face and a steady arm around his girlfriend, Isabella’s, shoulders. “See you on the other side of the pitch, kittens.”

“You’re the one with a kitten on the team.” Mila gracefully reminded him.

“Oi, shut it you old hag!”

“Right, let’s go, Slytherin!” JJ announced, kissing Isabella goodbye, “Georgi, take care of the kitten, will you?”

“ _What the bloody f-!_ ”

Yuri Plisetsky stopped cursing Mila and instead started shouting profanities at his own captain and at the team’s long-time member Georgi Popovich, as the Chaser heaved the angry fifth-year over his shoulder and carried him out of the Great Hall. Laughter still echoed after them.

“A solid eleven out of ten.” Phichit complimented Mila, high-fiving her.

“All right, Gryffindor,” Yuuri spoke up, still grinning as he shook his head, “let’s follow JJ’s excellent example and get going for real.” He stole one last, passionate kiss from Viktor unexpectedly, leaving the Ravenclaw slightly out of breath. “And I meant it; see you later, after dinner… unless the game is going on for longer than that, of course, but let’s hope not. At least Sara and Seung-Gil know where the Gryffindor Tower is located. We’ll be celebrating then.”

“Okay.” Viktor breathed, slightly dazed by the surprise kiss. “Be there.”

Yuuri winked at him, “Bring Chris and Louis, too.”

The Gryffindor team left, and Viktor’s mind could only repeat _see you later_. Or more specifically, _later_.

He had spent most of the night deciding that he would have to talk to Yuuri (and Chris) about his Hogsmeade dilemma _later_ , which meant to at least wait until the Quidditch game was over. Hence, he had then spent the morning convincing himself that he first would enjoy the game and (hopefully, most likely) celebrate with Yuuri afterwards, and then go back to thinking of ways to tell Yuuri he wouldn’t be able to visit Hogsmeade any longer… without worrying the Gryffindor.

 

**

 

“Good morning, people! Since you’ve all gathered here today, you are undoubtedly aware that on this very hour, the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup is about to kick off for the season!”

Viktor cheered along with everyone else as the Quidditch commentator, seventh-year Hufflepuff student Thora Dinnet, finally activated the magical megaphone and started talking, Professor Okukawa right beside her to make sure she behaved herself. Chris had earlier explained that Dinnet’s commentary was sometimes viewed as (hilariously) “problematic.” Viktor supposed he was about to find out what he meant by that.

“For once in the history of Hogwarts and Great Britain, the sun has actually decided to grace us with its fleeting presence, which I’m inclined to believe is some manner of magic that Yuuri Katsuki surely has had nothing to do with, so let us all be grateful for the few hours it will last.

“As tradition has it, it’s the lions and the snakes that open the season by going head to head, and here we have them, now entering the field! On the Gryffindor team, or on Team Gorgeous, which I prefer, we have Chasers Mila Babicheva and Kenjirou Minami, Beaters Michele Crispino and Tanner van Burm, Keeper Otabek Altin, Seeker Phichit Chulanont, and team captain, Chaser Yuuri Katsuki!”

The Gryffindors were cheering at the top of their lungs, scarlet and golden banners raised in the air and a multitude of signs wishing the team members good luck. Most Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had joined them in the cheering, including the entire Ravenclaw Quidditch team (except Seung-Gil, who had settled for applauding). Viktor was jumping up and down cheering for Yuuri, who had lead the team onto the field with head held high and his Yajirushi in hand.

“And then we have the Slytherin team, or Team Arrogant Pr-“

“Dinnet!”

“Fine, on Team Exaggerated Self-Opinion, we have Chasers Georgi Popovich, Sylvia Melville and Archana Shetty, Beaters Byron Miller and Atsushi Takanagi, Seeker Yuuri Plisetsky, and team captain, Keeper Jean-Jacques Leroy!”

The Slytherin students’ attempt to simultaneously cheer for their team and boo at the commentator resulted in a bizarre array of noises that ultimately sounded like an bunch of confused and annoyed mountain trolls, but the cheering won over in the end as JJ Leroy proudly led his team to the middle of the field, opposite the Gryffindors.

“And our honored referee for the umpteenth year in a row will be Flying Instructor extraordinaire, Madame Hooch!”

The grey-haired, hawk-like, and in Viktor’s opinion rather intimidating Flying Instructor made Yuuri and Leroy shake hands before the teams were allowed to mount their brooms and ascend into the air to assume their positions. Madame Hooch then opened the chest containing the balls and allowed the Snitch and the Bludgers to fly off before picking up the Quaffle and fly up to the middle of the field with the ball in hand.

She placed her whistle between her lips.

_Fweeeet!_

“The referee tosses the Quaffle in the air, where it’s immediately caught by Captain Katsuki, who has been the ace up Gryffindor’s sleeve four years in a row by now, and both Popovich and Shetty are trying to block him, but Katsuki dips down and passes to Babicheva, look at that gorgeous woman go! Babicheva back to Katsuki, over to Minami, the new addition to the Gryffindor team this year and that boy is _quick_ , ducking under Melville, pass to Katsuki who _scores!_ ”

Yuuri looped back and high-fived Mila and Kenjirou on the go while most of the audience cheered, Viktor having momentarily lost the ability to make noise at the sight of Gryffindor’s Chasers’ incredible teamwork. He had certainly never seen Sara, Chris and Hilary, however brilliant they were, fly and function like that. Like they could read each other’s thoughts.

“That’s ten points to Gryffindor, and the Captain Leroy now resumes the game and passes to Melville, whom I’ve got no idea what she’s done to her hair, but I’m not going to try it on myself, and passes to-, _nope_ , that’s a failed pass to Shetty because Minami grabs the Quaffle and passes to Babicheva…”

“Bloody Morgana.” Sara cursed under her breath.

“What is it?” Viktor asked, then had to wait for the reply when Kenjirou scored Gryffindor a second goal in the span of a minute.

“Your boyfriend has changed his _entire_ strategy since last year.” She groaned, never taking her eyes off the Gryffindor Chasers. “I really wasn’t expecting anything like this.”

“Neither was Leroy, it seems.” Chris commented.

“That’s another ten points to Gryffindor as Katsuki scores his second goal for the game, and the Slytherins have barely _touched_ the Quaffle thus far! Plisetsky is looking frantically for the Snitch when he’s not cursing the team captains, while Chulanont appears to be taking a vacation, but anyone who’s seen him on the field before knows that those hawk-eyes are hard at work.

“And Minami once again snatches the Quaffle mid-pass between Shetty and Popovich like a _ninja_ , drops it down to Katsuki who passes to Babicheva, and that’s an added ten points for Gryffindor! Katsuki appears to have changed tactics completely since last year, and what exactly he’s done, I have no idea, but it looks like he has turned the Gryffindor team into some kind of… unstoppable goal-machine! Plisestsky better be looking for that Snitch.”

“Unstoppable goal-machine, indeed.” Sara muttered, half-bitterly and half in awe.

Seung-Gil huffed slightly, “Katsuki has chosen players with stamina in mind. They’re tiring the Slytherin team out.”

He appeared to be right. The Gryffindors gave the Slytherins a run for their money with well-coordinated tactics and formations, and while the Chasers seemed unrelenting in their pursuit to score one goal after another, the Slytherins were using much energy on constantly attempting to block them. The Bludgers constantly steered in the direction of the Slytherin Chasers weren’t exactly helping, either.

“It’s Minami.” Sara concluded after the boy in question used a Finbourgh Flick to direct the Quaffle Yuuri had tossed through the middle goal post, resulting in their seventh the game had begun, as well as in the Gryffindors shouting themselves hoarse in their stands. “Katsuki has been able to build up an entirely new strategy because he has Minami on the team now. The boy is _good_ ; he’s improved miles since that one time he filled in for Mila last year.”

Gryffindor continued to rule the field, the Beaters expertly keeping the Bludgers away from them, not that the Slytherin Beaters didn’t fight back. However, they had more work to do merely keeping the Bludgers away than actually having time to aim at someone, which seemed to be a real strain on their muscles.

And if Sara had praised Minami earlier, Viktor, once again, couldn’t look away from Yuuri. It was obvious that if Yuuri wanted to try out for a Quidditch League-team after he graduated, he would be accepted without a hitch. Viktor had thought it before when he went flying with Yuuri, and they had done so quite a few times since October, but there was a lot of very, very hard work behind Yuuri’s skills on the Quidditch field. He had seen him practice everything from spin throws to Finbourgh Flicks and the like, and whenever he would fail or not be satisfied with the outcome, he would try again and again.

Not until he got it right, but until he couldn’t get it wrong any longer.

Viktor recognized talent when he saw it, he would like to think. The thing with Yuuri was that it wasn’t really all talent. In its stead was a passion for the game, and a fierce determination to do more than well. Preferably perfectly.

It was probably his sheer _drive_ alone that spurred the entire Gryffindor team to do their absolute best. Which was further confirmed when Yuuri suddenly changed course completely, starting to zig-zag towards the scoring area and passed the Quaffle to Kenjirou, also flying in zig-zag, who passed it to Mila, back to Yuuri…

Viktor could scarcely keep up with who was holding the Quaffle. The commentator also gave up.

“Babicheva, Minami, Babicheva, Katsuki, Mi-, oh, _fuck it_ , ‘scuse me, professor; that is a brilliantly executed Woollongong Shimmy by the Gryffindor Chasers, and Minami scores _again_ , a whopping 110 points to Gryffindor against Slytherin’s, uh, let me check, _zero!_ What a shame for them! Kenjirou Minami has definitely proven himself worthy of being on the field with Katsuki and Babicheva, both veterans on the Quidditch pitch, and I’m telling you, this chicken nugget is here to _win_ this game and nothing less!

“Aaaaand as Leroy passes to Popovich, we can take the time to note that _nothing_ is happening as far as it comes to locating the elusive little Snitch, if the frustrated scowl on Plisetsky’s face is anything to go by…”

Some time later (Viktor didn’t know how long, because it felt like two minutes but was probably about half an hour… or an hour), Kenjirou was on his way to score Gryffindor their mind-boggling fifteenth goal, and while he managed to dodge the Bludger aimed at his head successfully, he didn’t manage to avoid Shetty as she unhinderedly rammed straight into him, making him drop the Quaffle and barely managing to hang onto his broom with only his legs, preventing a fifteen-meter fall to the ground by the strand of a hair.

Madame Hooch blew the whistle sharply as a roar of outrage broke out from the Gryffindor stands.

“ _Foul!_ ” Thora Dinnet boomed, “Madame Hooch has now blown the game off to condemn the disgusting and cowardly action from Chaser Shitty-“

“Dinnet, I swear…!”

“ _I_ swear that I said Shetty, professor! Anyhow, Minami is declared okay to continue by the referee, and Gryffindor is given a penalty, which Katsuki handles. Look at the boy go, Leroy trying his best to keep up with the zig-zagging aaaaand…!”

Viktor sucked in a breath as Yuuri sharply veered to the right, changing trajectory without any kind of warning, looking like he was going to throw it through the rightmost hoop, but for some reason, Leroy was leaning to the left…

“ _Oh_ , almost, but that’s not far enough to the left, and Katsuki scores! Merlin’s beard, that’s a staggering 150 points to Gryffindor!”

“Merlin indeed.” Viktor grinned brightly, applauding Yuuri as he flew back over to Gryffindor’s side of the field again. “It feels a little like watching a Quidditch League-certified team go up against… well, the Slytherin house team.”

“And Plisetsky is now shouting profanities of unspeakable nature at his own teammates for their incompetence as the game continues, Babicheva grabs the Quaffle, and Ch-, _oh!_ Chulanont appears to have spotted the Snitch, and with the new Yajirushi he’s riding, he’s going _fast_ , now with Plisetsky tight on his heels on a slightly faster Firebolt. The Seekers are neck and neck while Katsuki is busy avoiding Popovich to score Gryffindors sixteenth goal-, _there it is!_ Gryffindor is 160 in the lead, and Plisetsky surely isn’t going to repeat the same mistake as last year and catch the Snitch too earl-, _what the bloody mother of goblins are you doing?!_ ”

There was a loud, angered roar from the audience, and Viktor’s jaw dropped, gaping at the absolutely unfathomable display. Yuri Plisetsky had kicked Phichit hard in the side with both feet to force him to do a Sloth Grip Roll, using the momentary distraction to block the path to the Snitch. Which was lost once again.

Phichit was clutching his side and coughing, but was already waving at Madame Hooch and Yuuri that he was fine.

“What the actual f-!”

“Language, Dinnet!”

“You’re thinking it too, professor! Anyhow, due to this display of detestable spinelessness from Slytherin’s Seeker – I’m disappointed in you, Plisetsky – Gryffindor is given another penalty after Phichit Chulanont have been given permission to continue.”

Yuuri scored Gryffindor a seventeenth goal, and the game resumed.

It appeared that Yuri’s little stunt had knocked some sense into the Slytherin Chasers, because when they somehow managed to pull themselves together, and with a little change of strategy, Popovich soon scored a goal, and was then followed by Shetty scoring another minutes later.

Viktor frowned, “Does it look like Gryffindor are allowing those goals to happen?” he wondered aloud, trying to watch Yuuri’s movements (mostly), “But why would they…?” but then, he caught sight of Otabek dodging both Bludgers and barely succeeding in catching the Quaffle and toss it to Kenjirou, and realization hit. “Ah!”

Chris cocked an eyebrow at him, “What is it?”

“They’re not allowing them at all.” He concluded. “It’s just that both Beaters are now protecting Phichit after Plisetsky’s stunt, and Otabek is barely able to dodge the Bludgers directed towards the goal posts. They’re not going to do otherwise unless Gryffindor suddenly doesn’t have a definite lead any longer.”

Sara cursed under her breath again, “We have a _lot_ of work to do.”

The entire team silently agreed.

“And it looks like Captain Leroy is telling his Seeker to ‘just catch the damned ball already’, because Katsuki’s team are about to utterly destroy them on the field, and are still in no danger of losing despite Slytherin having scored tw-, _three_ goals now, Altin had to make a choice between protecting the hoops and protecting his life – he chose wisely – but Gryffindor is still 150 points ahead with 180 points on the scoreboard. It’s Katsuki’s last year at Hogwarts and he’s not holding back, incredible stamina holding up as he goes in for another tr-, Plisetsky! Plisetsky has spotted the Snitch; look at that _speed_ , Chulanont tight on his heels!”

“He knows, just like Leroy, that if the game continued, Gryffindor will keep scoring and gain ridiculous amounts of point, and thereby gaining an incredulous lead in the tournament.” Sara sighed, running a hand through her hair.

“Yeah,” Viktor agreed, watching the two Seekers zoom through the air, “he now only wants to beat Chulanont to save his own dignity.”

“What dignity?” Seung-Gil huffed, arms crossed, “After pulling that on Chulanont, Plisetsky really has no dignity left in my book.”

Chris and Viktor shared a quick glance at the comment, but said nothing. Not that they had the time, because Yuuri scored Gryffindor another ten points with an elegant spin throw, and Viktor’s throat was sore from cheering so loudly for so long. It was nearing noon, after all.

Phichit and Plisetsky were neck and neck, flying as fast as their brooms would go towards the elusive little ball. The Slytherin Beater, Miller, attempted to aim a Bludger at Phichit, but instead of Michele Crispino or Tanner van Burm having to fly to the rescue, it ended up being directed elsewhere by the other Slytherin Beater, Takanagi, because the Bludger was about to hit Plisetsky.

The other players, predictably, weren’t about to cease their actions only because the Seekers were seconds away from bringing the game to an end.

“Mila Babicheva breaks the 200-point mark for Gryffindor, what a magnificent display of skill from the Gryffindor Chasers with that beautifully executed Hawkshead Attacking Formation! The Slytherin Chasers are at a loss, because they really were _not_ prepared for this drastic change of strategy on Katsuki’s part, that much is clear; both Leo de la Iglesia and Sara Crispino are no doubt taking notes.

“And it’s very, _very_ tight between Chulanont and Plisetsky now, they’re pushing each other’s arms away in order to reach the Snitch first, it’s right within their grasps no-, _Merlin’s Flobberworm!_ ”

Viktor gasped, clutching both hands over his mouth. His heart might have stopped momentarily in shock. Instinctively, he chanced a glance at Seung-Gil, had taken a step forward and looked like he was holding his breath, fists clenched by his sides.

For good reason.

Phichit had launched himself off his broom, gaining that little extra range he needed to grasp the Snitch in one hand, grabbing onto the broom with the other. Plisetsky had stopped not five meters in front of him when he realized what had happened, a look of complete and utter shock on his face. Viktor couldn’t blame him.

Yuuri had said more than once that he, Viktor, would give Phichit a run for his money when it was time for Gryffindor and Ravenclaw to go head-to-head, but he had never mentioned that Phichit was an absolute _madman_ when it came to catching the Snitch. If he wanted to _really_ give Phichit a challenge, he needed to step up his game.

Plisetsky would kill to catch the Snitch, as he had guessed. What he should have guessed, and absolutely didn’t, was that Phichit would _die_ to catch it.

It was clear which method was more effective.

The whistle blew and everyone was screaming bloody murder, but Plisetsky snapped out of his state of shock to fly back over to Phichit and pull him back up onto the broom. Phichit seemed to thank him, but Plisetsky just shook his head before leaving room for the Gryffindor team to surround their Seeker in triumph, Yuuri reaching him first to pull him in for a hug and, by the looks of it, giving him an earful due to his stunt.

The screams from the Gryffindor stands changed to deafening chants of “Go, go, Gryffindor!”  ringing across the pitch, and Viktor’s heart slowly accelerated back to life as he joined in on the cheering.

“Well, after gifting the entire stadium with cardiac arrest by laughing in the face of Certain Death, Phichit Chulanont catches the Snitch in an absolutely outrageous manner – he’s _mad_ , people, don’t let that sunshine smile fool you – and scores Gryffindor those sought-after 150 points. _Gryffindor wins!_ ”

Gryffindor had indeed won by a landslide, a whole 350 points against Slyhterin’s, frankly meager, 30. Still, Leroy shook Yuuri’s hand with a grin on his face, which Viktor thought was very sportsmanly of him, and he could have sworn both captains were thanking the other for a good game.

The only ones who actually seemed fazed over the loss were Popovich, who was obviously sulking, and Plisetsky, who looked like he was about to order someone’s head on a plate in revenge. Then again, his scowl seemed to soften somewhat when he shook hands with Otabek, and also when he reached Phichit, looking down on the ground rather than at the Seeker. Viktor got a small feeling he was apologizing.

Shaking hands with Yuuri, Plisetsky refused to meet his eye, but didn’t scowl at him either… that was until Yuuri patted him on the shoulder, which earned him an onslaught of profanities shouted after him as the teams started heading towards their respective dressing rooms.

“Well, damn,” Sara sighed, shaking her head, “we’re going to have to work for that trophy.”

Viktor wholeheartedly agreed.

 

**

 

Later, Viktor, Chris, Louis, Seung-Gil and Sara decided to have dinner together before heading to the Gryffindor Tower. Yuuri, Phichit and Sara’s brother Mickey were waiting outside a portrait of a sturdy lady, and upon spotting the visitors, Phichit waved enthusiastically at them.

Yuuri smiled, bright and happy, and Viktor’s heart swelled.

He then restrained himself for a millisecond before breaking into a run. Yuuri had time to take only a couple of steps forward before Viktor jumped straight into his arms, giggles turning into full on laughter as Yuuri took hold of his waist to hoist him up and spin him around, then lowering him enough to tilt his own head up for a kiss.

“You,” Viktor declared as he was placed back on the ground, poking Yuuri’s chest, “are a liar.”

Yuuri tilted his head in interest, “Am I a liar, or do I simply keep secrets?”

“Both.” Viktor decided, pouting. “You’re a liar because you said I’m going to give Phichit a run for his money. And you apparently forgot to mention that he’s also completely and utterly insane.”

The Seeker in question burst into laughter, “They don’t call me Crazy Chulanont for nothing.”

“He’s more proud of it than he should be.” Yuuri sighed, shaking his head. “Still, I wasn’t lying at all.” He winked. “Shall we?”

The Gryffindor common room was packed to the brim with people, scarlet and golden banners with moving, occasionally roaring lions decorating the place from floor to ceiling. There was a large table filled with snacks and refreshments, and to Viktor’s amazement, the Ravenclaw guests were welcomed as if it was a normal occurrence. Then he noticed a few Hufflepuffs already present, and figured it _was_ a normal occurrence.

He mentioned his surprise to Mila anyway, as he had ended up in her company for the time being while Yuuri had been engaged in a conversation with Sara and the Hufflepuff Quidditch team captain, Leo de la Iglesia.

Mila shrugged, “We really do it all the time, even the Slytherins… but not today, it seems, I imagine JJ is trying to lift their spirits back in their own common room. I almost thought Yuri would come over to hang out with Otabek… maybe he will, later. Mickey and I have been to more than a few Ravenclaw celebrations, you know.” She gave him a wink. “And Yuuri and Phichit usually go over to Hufflepuff because they’re friends with Leo and Guang-Hong, you know, the Seeker.”

There was a small detail Viktor picked up on, though, tilting his head in interest, “You’re on first-name basis with Plisetsky?”

Mila laughed, “Yeah, but we mostly throw insults back and forth; it’s quite entertaining, and despite his… aggressive behavior, he would probably never forgive me if I one day suddenly stopped. He usually starts it anyway, calling me an old hag and such. I usually call him a kitten.”

“I read in _Hogwarts: A History_ that Gryffindor and Slytherin are rival houses, but that doesn’t seem to apply too well any longer.”

“It doesn’t, for the most part.” Mila confirmed. “The bonds between students tightened after the Second Wizarding War, and I can only guess that the flood of transfers helped it further. Just because someone is placed in Slytherin doesn’t mean they’re a bad person. Take JJ, for example.”

Viktor hummed, “Yeah, I think I see what you mean… not that I know him. He came off as quite cocky, but… he showed really good sportsmanship.”

“He’s a good sport, but can be downright rude at times, sometimes without even meaning to.” Mila agreed. “But he’s all but a bad person… and he’s on good terms with Yuuri, so that seals the deal for the rest of the team, too. I know him, Leo and Sara were all relieved when the news reached them that JJ had been appointed team captain last year.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Yuuri answered the question himself, sliding up beside Viktor and handing him and Mila a bottle of butterbeer each, “he’s much easier to work and get along with than the former captain when it comes to scheduling practice times and such. I no longer have to book Gryffindor’s practices on September 2nd to get the times I want.”

“Cheers to that!” Mila suggested, holding up the bottle.

“To co-operation.” Yuuri agreed as they all clinked their bottles together.

Mila was then whisked away by none other than Sara, and Viktor slid an arm around Yuuri’s waist to pull him closer. Yuuri smiled at him, a small twinkle in his eye.

“Is that so?”

Viktor grinned, all too happy to get further distraction from his gnawing worries that had been firmly held in the back of his mind ever since the Quidditch game. He intended for them to stay there at least until morning. Hence, he took another sip of butterbeer and leaned in to brush his lips against Yuuri’s jawline, breathing against the soft skin, satisfied when he felt Yuuri’s hand tightening on his own waist.

“Show me your dorm?”

Yuuri huffed a breath, possibly keeping back a more embarrassing noise.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

If anyone had told Viktor on September 1st that he two and a half months later would find himself in the Gryffindor seventh year boys’ dorm bathroom behind a locked door with his robes discarded on the floor and pants pooling around his feet while stifling an array of gasps and moans against Yuuri Katsuki’s lips, he would have called that person a liar.

…and then tried to figure out how he could make it happen anyway.

 

**

Yuuri awoke the following morning to the sound of a newly lit fire in the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, his sight slightly blurred due to sleep and the lack of glasses, but even without them, there was no mistaking the silver hair covering most of his field of vision. He smiled, unable to resist the urge to place a kiss atop Viktor’s head, inhaling deeply.

It smelled heavily of that ridiculously expensive shampoo the Russian preferred to use.

After their, uh, _retreat_ to the dorm bathroom the night before, they had headed back down to the party in the common room, and a couple more butterbeers later, they had ended up on the couch, lazily making out until they fell asleep. Hence, Viktor was still asleep mostly on top of Yuuri, clinging to him even in his sleep as if he was afraid that Yuuri would disappear if he didn’t hold on hard enough.

Yuuri carefully pulled Viktor’s snoozing form tighter against him, and the silver-haired veela in his arms snuggled closer unconsciously. Unable to resist, Yuuri kissed his temple softly, not wanting to wake him just yet.

Day by day, he was more and more convinced that Viktor was an angel. Not only did he look like one, but he had a heart to match, which made him all the more beautiful inside out. He had the enthusiasm of a curious five-year-old, he was funny and filled to the brim with joy, and he was never afraid to voice his opinion, always honest in everything he did.

Well, sure, he could be a bit oblivious and a downright airhead at times (it probably hadn’t been the brightest idea in the world to tell Yuri Plisetsky that his gaillard cadences were mediocre), but despite being almost brutally blunt, Viktor never meant any harm. He would always look a bit taken off guard whenever Yuuri or Chris pointed it to him (“no one would have blinked an eye at Koldovstoretz”). Given how Professors Baranovskaya and Feltsman treated their students, Yuuri thought he might have understood. At least a little.

And he would never have it any other way either. Viktor wasn’t perfect, and that, to Yuuri, made him even more than perfect. Human. An utterly adorable and ridiculously amazing human, but human nevertheless.

Viktor stirred a little but didn’t wake up, something that sounded like Yuuri’s own name escaping as a sigh past his lips. Yuuri smiled against Viktor’s head, carefully petting the starlight strands soothingly. He looked so peaceful, _felt_ so peaceful, sound asleep in Yuuri’s arms.

Swallowing a sudden lump in his throat, Yuuri buried his face into Viktor’s hair, squeezing his eyes shut to hold back a sudden wave of emotion that made his heart ache and stomach churn. His grip on Viktor tightened unconsciously.

The Russian looked like he was as safe and content as could be right where he was. Like he didn’t have a care in the world.

If only all of that were true…

This was Yuuri’s chance, he knew it was. Viktor was asleep, and they were all alone in the common room on an early Sunday morning, and it had been a month since he had done it the last time. It needed to be done, and he couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity.

Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, Yuuri reached for his wand as stealthily as possible, keeping an eye on Viktor’s sleeping features. Noting his breathing was still heavy, and slightly relieved that he was facing towards the fireplace and not towards the wand in his right hand, Yuuri pointed the tip to Viktor’s back.

Anything to keep him safe.

 

_Early morning, September 2 nd_

Headmistress McGonagall sighed, closing her eyes for a moment while massaging her temples.

“According to Yakov, the boy is an airhead but brilliant, and I suppose only time will tell what that means exactly.” She spoke, opening her eyes to fix her gaze on the Defense Against the Dark Arts-professor in front of her. “I got the impression he tried to tell me that while the boy isn’t the brightest star in the sky, he definitely _is_ the brightest star in the sky.”

“Perhaps he has a brilliant mind when it comes to magic, and not so much when it comes to social interaction?” Celestino offered, “Then again, he appears to be very friendly, given how well he immediately got along with his new classmates last night.”

McGonagall hummed, “And apart from that, we don’t know much else about him than that his mother is a steadfast politician and that his father is an exceptional sorcerer… and that the family has one or several dark wizards on their heels.” She peered at him through delicate glasses, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I shouldn’t say I think we might have gotten lucky with this, because there’s no luck involved in this at all, but you must understand what I’m trying to say.” Her lips formed a paper-thin line. “You noticed, of course? Last night?”

Celestino nodded, a small, sad smile on his lips, “It was hard to miss, given the circumstances. And while I wouldn’t call it luck, per say, I did feel more than certain that we’ve made the right decision.”

“Mrs. Granger was reluctant to allow it at first.” McGonagall reminded him bitterly. “But she has… seen and been through enough to know that such a measure of precaution might just be the absolute best protection we can offer the boy.”

“Provided we get a positive answer from…”

 _Knock knock_.

The two shared a look before McGonagall cleared her throat, “Come in!”

The teenager they had been waiting for entered the circular office with a polite “Good morning Professor McGonagall, Professor Cialdini” and sat down on the offered chair in front of the Headmistress’ desk, beside the DADA-teacher.

McGonagall took a deep breath before speaking again:

“You are undoubtedly wondering why you are here, Mr. Katsuki.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! :)
> 
> Regretfully, I still haven't gotten around replying to all your comments, and I feel terrible. I hope to be able to get to it within the next few days, but the past week has been... many things. My Friday went something like this:
> 
> "Hm, I should head downtown today and get some stuff done, because my childhood friend is getting married tomorrow, and I won't have the energy to do it on Sunday, I'll get goi-, or maybe... maybe I should shower first? ...yeah, I'll just take a shower and get going." I had barely gotten dressed after the shower when my best friend called me and practically screamed in my ear: "Please tell me you're at home!"
> 
> You see, I live in Turku in southwestern Finland, about a ten-minute walk from the city center, and on Friday there was an incident at the market square where a man stabbed a bunch of people (mostly women) in broad daylight: [BBC:s report here](http://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-40978446) (short version, and it doesn't for example tell you that those brave civilians who tried to stop the person were also of immigrant background - media outside of Finland has somehow tended to not mention this and people here, me included, are inexplicably upset about it, because those guys are heroes and deserve better).
> 
> Anyhow, needless to say, my plan to go downtown failed, because the area was in lockdown for a good while after the guy had been caught. When my best friend hung up, my mum had called me about ten times, so had my boyfriend (who was at work in the neighboring town and knew I had intended to head downtown in the afternoon), my dad and my grandmas, and Facebook was going crazy with notifications. I spent the rest of the day in shock and the dams broke late in the evening, when it sunk in that hadn't I decided to hop into the shower before leaving, I would have been right there on the site. As far as I know, my friends and acquaintances are safe and sound.
> 
> I know these things (and much more horrible ones) happen every day, as a friend of mine wrote: "Barcelona yesterday, Turku today, Syria every day." He's right, of course. It's just that this hit a little too close to home, because it was literally around the corner. I lived right beside Puutori for many years, and never once walking around there was I ever afraid of ending up with a knife through my neck. I cannot in any way even begin to imagine living with that kind of fear every single minute of one's life.
> 
> Yeah, my Friday was a mess, not only because "I could have been there", but also because of all the people that directly contacted me and wanted to know I was safe and sound at home. I've probably never felt more loved in my life, and I'm very, very emotional about it. My best friend crying over the phone broke my heart. I've yet to figure out how to tell them all how much that meant to me, but I will.
> 
> It's entirely possible my shaken state can be seen in the chapter uploaded today, and in case it does, I apologize. Events like these tend to make me feel a lot of things, and it usually shows in everything I do for days afterwards... Hence, it's also better I return to your comments when I'm in a better headspace. I sincerely hope you understand.
> 
> Take care of yourself and those close to you, and give your best friend a call and tell them you love them (I did, earlier today). Stay safe <3


	9. Never Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too much and never enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note! You may have noticed the rating has changed from T to M, but the sexual content is mild and not exactly explicit. Please tell me if you feel the rating still should be higher. Enjoy!

Viktor was at a complete loss. He had spent the entirety of the Sunday after the opening Quidditch game between Gryffindor and Slytherin with Yuuri, going for a walk in the rare sunshine all around the Hogwarts grounds, from the lake to the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, and then they headed up to Viktor’s dormitory (because Chris was spending his day with Louis, and Nate and Sherwood were engaged in yet another tournament of Exploding Snap somewhere else in the castle) to laze around.

And not once, during all that time, had Viktor managed to tell Yuuri he couldn’t go to Hogsmeade the upcoming weekend.

He hadn’t been able to figure out a reasonable explanation, and hence, had ended up not mentioning it at all. He needed something that would work long-term, not just once, and that proved to be excruciatingly hard to figure out. Especially as he needed an explanation that would work for both Yuuri and Chris.

No matter how much he didn’t want to lie to either of them, he really had little to no choice.

Turning over onto his stomach on the bed, Viktor buried his face into the pillow, muffling a frustrated whimper. Since when had _lying_ become so difficult for him, Viktor Nikiforov, the _master_ of white lies? He had grown so used to lying through his teeth at Koldovstoretz that he usually didn’t give any of it a second thought, and the only one who had seen through all of it had been Yakov.

That had all changed when he transferred to Hogwarts, and it really all had to do with the fact that he had made _real_ friends. He had met Chris.

And he had met Yuuri.

Despite his inner turmoil, Viktor still plastered on a sun-bright smile and willed himself to believe he was happy enough that the smile would reach his eyes eventually when he headed down to breakfast in the early morning on Monday together with Chris and Louis. Yuuri and Phichit were waiting by the door to the Great Hall when they got there, and the two sat down by the Ravenclaw table with them.

Yuuri’s presence (and good morning kiss) was enough for Viktor’s smile to turn into a real one, but it didn’t fully quell the unease pooling in his gut. Outwardly, he blamed it on feeling tired, then melted completely into Yuuri’s side as the Gryffindor offered his shoulder as a last-minute pillow. Viktor snuggled close, burying his head into the crook of Yuuri’s neck, fighting down a satisfied smirk when the still-blossoming evidence of their activities the day before peaked out slightly above the collar of Yuuri’s robes.

He knew himself to have a fair share of similar marks… well, uh, all over him, really. He had spent a great deal of time admiring them in the bathroom the previous evening.

Sadly, with Yuuri out in the greenhouses and Viktor down in the dungeons when they had to part for class, all the worries he had pushed down and away came back full force. He stared blankly at the cauldron in front of him, absentmindedly stirring the… what elixir was he making again…? Whatever it was, he was supposed to stir it clockwise seven times and then once counterclockwise, then repeated the process until the potion turned bright blue.

What would he tell Yuuri and Chris?

How Viktor managed to get the potion right (far from perfect, but right) would later be something he considered a miracle, but he had managed to make a bright blue elixir (whatever it was, he couldn’t be bothered enough to check), bottle it and place the vial with his name on it on Yakov’s desk. That was when his troubled mind was interrupted by the Potions Master, who grabbed a hold of his wrist and startled Viktor out of his thoughts. He blinked, looking down at his stern mentor seated behind his desk. Yakov merely held the perfectly unreadable expression he always sported despite the situation, regarding him intently.

The old man said nothing, but the message was clear as day.

_Stay after class._

Viktor nodded in understanding and headed back to his work station to clean up and pack his things. He quickly told Chris he’d stay and have a word with Yakov, and since Chris knew Yakov had been Viktor’s mentor for years, he asked no further questions and only told him he would go to the library and stay there until lunch, like they had planned on doing.

When the door to the classroom finally closed behind Chris, Yakov beckoned Viktor over to his desk and summoned a simple chair for him to sit on. Viktor slumped down onto the offered seat and finally let out the heavy sigh he had been holding back all morning, exhausted and with the weight of the world attached to it.

Yakov pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Talk to me, Vitya.”

There was an odd softness around the edges to Yakov’s otherwise gruff voice that threatened to entirely shatter the mask Viktor had grown so used to wearing. He inhaled sharply, swallowing down a painful lump in his throat before speaking, slowly:

“I…” he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to withhold the stinging droplets of inner conflict from spilling down his cheeks, “I don’t know… what to tell Yuuri. Or Chris.” He forced himself to look at Yakov, willing the old man to hand him the answers to all his problems. “I don’t want to give up my Saturday afternoons with Yuuri, but I can’t go to Hogsmeade, so what do I do? What if he takes it the wrong way? What if-?”

Yakov held up a hand, probably sensing a ramble of questions all related to the same thing about to spill out of Viktor’s mouth in incoherent order. He snapped his mouth shut instinctively.

The old man paused briefly before speaking, “First and foremost, do you have any doubt that Katsuki would refuse you if you just told him you wanted to stay here at the castle on Saturday instead of going to Hogsmeade? You don’t need to visit the village every allowed weekend; there are people who stay here by their own free will, too, you know. I’m sure he wouldn’t bat an eye, seeing as you have him tightly wrapped around your finger.” Viktor flushed bright red. “I’m also sure that Giacometti would understand that you’d like to stay with Katsuki at the castle once in a while, rather than run around wasting money in Hogsmeade without giving any of it a second thought.”

Despite having flushed up to his ears, Viktor gestured wildly in exasperation, “But…! That only works _once_ , Yakov! Sure, I can use that excuse this week, but what do I do after that? What excuses do I have _not_ to go to Hogsmeade for, you know, an unforeseeable future? ‘No, I don’t feel like it, but could pick up some broom polish and parchment for me, Chris?’ Do you hear how utterly stupid that sounds?”

“Well, by buying some time with this one-time excuse, I’m sure we can find a more suitable explanation in time for the weekends to follow.” Yakov stated calmly, gaze firm and unwavering. “For example, I happened to speak with Professor Cialdini last night, and he tells me that while you’re decent at Defense Against the Dark Arts, you lack the skills necessary for dealing with a threat like Inferno. You’re sixteen, of course, and can’t be expected to _have_ those necessary skills, but given the situation, it’s vital you learn to defend yourself better.” His eyes held no small amount of sadness.

“You have excellent grades, Vitya, a little less excellent in DADA, but good never the less. Still, you do realize that should you find yourself face to face with a powerful, dark wizard, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Viktor stared at him, wide-eyed.

“…what are you suggesting?” he asked quietly.

“There are options, I suppose,” Yakov grunted in his usual, brusque manner, “but the inevitable truth is that you need to put more effort than ever into your DADA-skills. Since you already are an overachiever…”

“…without really meaning to, you know…”

“…you could schedule tutoring in DADA for the Hogsmeade Saturdays, because that’s the one subject you want to improve in.”

Viktor shook his head slowly, “Sure I would need DADA-tutoring, but-“

“Ask Katsuki to tutor you.”

Viktor’s entire world stopped, mind, heart and breath halting as his jaw dropped to the floor, staring wide-eyed at his mentor.

“Wh-…what?”

“Ask Katsuki to tutor you in DADA.” Yakov stated simply, crossing his arms. “Give it a thought. If you tell him you feel like you’re failing DADA, which is his absolute ace subject, I can’t fathom he would refuse you if you asked him to trade your Hogsmeade dates for tutor-sessions… or however you want to phrase it.”

Viktor worried his bottom lip. Sure, it was highly unlikely Yuuri would deny him, but…

“Wouldn’t that be terribly suspicious? In, you know, _every way?_ I still have an E in DADA, you know.”

Yakov shrugged, “You could tell him you’re embarrassed about your DADA-skills when you otherwise fare so very well, but you don’t want others to find out you asked for tutoring, and then the two of you, and Giacometti, can come up with some other excuse together, if needed. Of course, whatever you end up telling people will be interpreted… differently.”

“ _Yakov!_ ” Viktor shouted, face burning, shocked and terribly embarrassed.

The old man merely rolled his eyes, “That’s the truth, and you know it. Still, think about it; you can use the one-time excuse this week if you like, but then you really should give this option a thought.” The corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. “You know he would happily oblige.”

Viktor knew. That didn’t make it any easier. He had already used excuses of all kinds as to why he only visited Hogsmeade on Saturday afternoons, and this merely complicated things further.

Still… he needed those DADA-tutoring sessions. And he wanted to spend time with Yuuri…

 

**

 

“All right!” Sara stated as the Ravenclaw Quidditch team geared up for practice on Tuesday afternoon, “we’re getting close now, less than two weeks to our first game. Gryffindor took a _major_ lead from the start, and now we’re going to make sure we give them one Merlin of a challenge. Katsuki and Leroy have been gentlemanly enough to cancel their practice times this week and the next altogether, so we’re going full Firebolt ahead; today, Friday, Saturday, and next week on Tuesday and Wednesday.” She grabbed her broom and nodded confidently.

“Now, we’re not going to change tactics only a week and a half before our game against Hufflepuff.” She further assured them, earning a good handful of relieved sighs from the team members, particularly the Chasers and the Beaters. “But after that, we’re going to sit down and have a strategy meeting concerning our games against Slytherin and Gryffindor.” The corner of her mouth twitched slightly. “Needless to say, it’s the latter we have to worry most about. Katsuki has shown his unpredictability many times, and yet he still manages to surprise.”

Viktor couldn’t help but grin at her, “Then we have to surprise him right back.”

Sara gave him an amused smile, “And how do we surprise him without, say, having you fly right up to him for a smooch in the middle of the field?” she paused, “Actually, I believe that is considered a foul, so please don’t do that. However, I’m sure that together, we can think of something and work with it… later. For now,” she turned on her heel and walked over to the door, “let’s focus on beating de la Iglesia.”

Viktor grabbed his Firebold and headed out onto the pitch, being the first to kick off into the air and start his warm-ups around the field, letting the light wind and the chilly dampness clear his mind a bit, helping him focus.

He still hadn’t decided on whether to tell Yuuri he just didn’t feel like going to Hogsmeade on Saturday, or ask him about potential tutoring in DADA from the get-go. He would have to talk to him soon, at the very latest after dance class on Thursday.

There was no putting it off for much longer.

 

**

 

“Bath?”

Yuuri turned to look at Viktor, downing the last of his pumpkin juice in one swift go before nodding.

“Of course.” He affirmed, smiling. “Do you need to head to the Ravenclaw tower first, or…?”

Viktor shook his head, smiling back, “Nope, ready to go.”

Yuuri hummed, then stood up and grabbed his bag, offering Viktor his hand, “Well, then let’s.” Viktor grinned, gladly accepting the offered hand and grabbing his own bag, waving goodbye to Chris, Louis and Phichit as they left the Gryffindor table, heading towards the fifth floor and the Prefects’ bathroom.

“What would happen,” Viktor wondered aloud as they made their way through the corridor where the statue of Boris the Bewildered was located, “if someone walked in and saw me using the Prefects’ bathroom? I’m really not included in the exclusive group of people who’re allowed to visit.”

Yuuri gave up a small laugh, “Honestly? Nothing, as long as you’re here with someone who’s allowed to use it.” He gave Viktor a wink. “Did you really think you were the only non-prefect or non-Quidditch Captain to use the bathroom? This is Hogwarts we’re talking about.”

Oh. Well, that did make sense. And Viktor was curious.

“Who else?”

But the Gryffindor merely laughed again, shaking his head, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Viktor pouted, but he understood. He thought. Yuuri wasn’t about to say anything else on the matter, at least not as long as they were still in a public corridor.

“Lavender soap.” Yuuri told the statue of Boris, which opened up the door to the fancy bathroom to let them in. The mermaid on the painting above the spacious sunken tub waved at them before diving down into the water beneath her, always ready to give them some privacy. Viktor was terribly grateful for that, and he imagined Yuuri was, too.

The Gryffindor pulled out his wand and pointed towards the main tap, getting the water running, and then at the taps around the edges with their preferred effects. Mostly bubbles. And Viktor liked the shimmer mist and the glitter.

Dropping his training bag down onto the bench beside Yuuri’s, Viktor released his hair from the usual ponytail, sending it cascading down his back, carding his fingers through it to keep it away from his eyes for a little longer. He toed off his shoes and pulled off his loose sweater, and was about to continue with his tank-top when a set of hands on his waist stopped him.

He froze momentarily in surprise, before melting into Yuuri’s touch, allowing the Gryffindor to rid him of the piece of clothing instead. Tentatively leaning slightly backwards, Viktor’s bare back soon met Yuuri’s equally bare chest. A pleasant shudder tingled down his spine as Yuuri nuzzled his neck to place a kiss onto his shoulder, right on top of a still red mark he had left there the previous evening. Viktor could feel the satisfied smile against his bare skin, and shivered again.

Warm, firm hands traveled down his sides and settled on the waistband of his practice tights, momentarily stilling in a silent question. Viktor nuzzled Yuuri’s cheek in confirmation, and the Gryffindor complied, hooking his thumbs around the elastic to pull them down. Viktor stayed right where he was, breathing incoherent and slightly shaky as Yuuri kneeled behind him to get the tights all the way down and off, trailing barely-there kisses along his spine on the way down and then back up when he rose to his feet.

“…someone could walk in…” Viktor weakly attempted, barely hearing or registering his own words as his coherent thoughts were fading away in the wake of Yuuri’s ministrations, senses zooming in on the Gryffindor completely, the warm hands on flushed skin burning his resolve, the hot lips trailing butterfly kisses along his neck and shoulders setting his nerve-endings on fire.

When had he tilted his head to allow Yuuri better access?

Yuuri hummed against his skin, and Viktor could feel the smirk on his lips, “No one’s walked in on a Thursday evening before.” He reasoned, voice unbearably innocent, like he wasn’t doing anything at all. Like he wasn’t aware of setting Viktor’s entire being ablaze with his touch and his lips and his words. All contradictory to the fact that his hands were resting snugly on Viktor’s hips, playing with the edges of the only piece of clothing left on his body – his (frankly, skimpy) underwear – and Yuuri _definitely_ knew what he was doing, and there was nothing innocent about it to begin with.

Viktor swallowed, mouth dry like a desert. The hold on his hips tightened, and he instinctively reached behind him to take a hold of Yuuri’s own hip in a feeble attempt to ground himself.

He gasped involuntarily, flushing all the way up to his ears and down to his chest at the realization that Yuuri was…

…not even wearing his boxers any longer.

His reaction coaxed a small chuckle from Yuuri.

“May I?” he still asked, audibly this time, voice barely above a whisper, hot breath fanning over the shell of Viktor’s ear. With a pleasurable shudder crawling its way up his spine, Viktor felt himself nod.

“Please.” He breathed.

Yuuri kissed him right below his ear before taking hold of the garment and pulling it down enough for it to drop to the floor on its own, and Viktor sucked in a sharp breath, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Despite the humidity in the air, the sudden exposure to even a slightly cooler temperature was enough to make his skin prickle and tingle all over. Yuuri’s hands traveled back up to Viktor’s hips, fitting against him just so.

Unable to restrain himself further, Viktor gave up a small, frustrated huff and, before Yuuri could react, pressed his back flush against Yuuri’s front, pulling a surprised gasp from the Gryffindor and a less surprised one from himself. Yuuri’s hands tightened on his hips to keep him in place, huffing out a breath against his neck.

“Impatient.” He scolded gently, but obliged anyway, placing one firm hand on Viktor’s chest, and Viktor tilted his head back in response, placing his hands atop Yuuri’s own because he had no idea where to place them, but had a desperate urge to hold onto _something_.

“Yuuuuriii…!” he whined, almost startling himself at how utterly needy and _wrecked_ he sounded.

“Shh, darling,” Yuuri hushed against his skin, punctuating his words with a soft kiss to the crook of his neck, hand lingering aggravatingly close to where Viktor actually wanted it, but not close enough, “come here.”

Slightly dazed and mostly _gone_ , Viktor allowed Yuuri to lead him over to the bath, sinking down into the pleasantly warm water and settling down in Yuuri’s lap, back still against his chest. He was about to complain about the Gryffindor’s unfair amount of self-control again, but the frustrated whine died in his throat and was replaced by a choked moan instead.

He couldn’t see Yuuri’s face, but he knew the Gryffindor was looking smug. That he had that infuriatingly attractive smirk on his lips and that twinkle of amused satisfaction in his eyes, all in all looking too good for Viktor’s well-being as per usual.

“Better?” Yuuri mused, grinning when Viktor responded with a somewhat embarrassed, but mostly pleased whimper, having lost the ability to speak for the time being. His wordless response was, however, answer enough for Yuuri to pull him tighter against himself and, without any warning, placing his mouth to the soft spot on Viktor’s neck and sucking hard. The reward was a half-yelp, half-hiss, Viktor’s hands gripping onto Yuuri’s thighs and squeezing, registering his own, cracked voice telling the Gryffindor to keep going and please don’t stop.

It took Yuuri an almost embarrassingly short time to send him over the edge, but Viktor’s nerve-endings were ablaze, stars appearing in his closed-eyed vision, his entire body spasming as the tension released his limbs while he struggled to catch his breath, riding out his high until oversensitivity took over. He whimpered, and Yuuri removed his hand from between Viktor’s legs, holding him close as he melted against the Gryffindor, boneless. His heartbeat and breathing slowly evened out, but he was still floating high in the clouds at the feeling of Yuuri trailing soothing kisses along his neck and shoulders.

Speaking of Yuuri…

Viktor gathered himself enough to turn around and straddle his boyfriend, finally claiming his teasing lips just to kiss that attractively smug smile right off them, and, without any preamble, reaching down between them to return the favor. Yuuri didn’t protest; on the contrary, he moaned deliciously against Viktor’s lips, settling his hands on his hips and holding on _tight_ , probably just hard enough to leave a few more of those blossoming bruises Viktor liked admiring in the bathroom mirror.

He was more pleased about those marks than he would ever dare to admit. Somehow, he had a feeling Yuuri _knew_.

To his triumph and utter satisfaction, Yuuri came with a gasp only minutes later, a bright blush spread all the way down to his chest and mouth hanging open, looking like he was attempting to make noises that just wouldn’t get past his throat. Viktor caged him in with his hands against the edge of the tub, leaning in to kiss him again.

It was only when they parted that he fully had the time to take in the fact that Yuuri was smiling. Smiling very, very smugly, to be precise, dark, burgundy eyes twinkling.

He tilted his head slightly, “Haven’t you ever wondered, Viktor,” he spoke, trailing a hand along Viktor’s side, “ _why_ it is that no one’s ever walked in on us?”

…

… _huh?_

Viktor stilled, staring at Yuuri, dumbfounded.

“I-… no, but…” he settled for shaking his head in confusion, “but when we came here the first time, you said…” he trailed off, feeling uncertain. Yuuri’s hand ran soothingly up and down his back, and he relaxed into the touch, waiting for an explanation.

“Yes, I did say that someone could very well walk in.” He agreed, nodding in understanding, but the smirk didn’t falter. “And that wasn’t a lie, because the first time we came here, someone could very well _have_ walked in on us at any given moment, but no one did. What I might not have told you is that after that one time, there hasn’t really been any risk of that happening in the first place.”

Viktor’s eyes must have grown past the size of Hagrid’s Halloween pumpkins.

“Why?”

“Because,” Yuuri murmured innocently, placing a kiss on Viktor’s nose, “we have an, uh… unofficial booking system in use, the prefects and the Quidditch Captains, I mean. The first time we came here, I hadn’t booked the bath, so anyone could have joined, but I’ve booked it for every Thursday evening ever since.” He tilted his head. “Just in case.”

Piecing the information together in his slightly disoriented brain, Viktor gaped at him.

“So, there’s a booking system you people use when… you want to be left alone?”

Yuuri winked at him, “Saves everyone from a lot of… embarrassing situations.”

“You bastard.” Viktor muttered, pouting with puffed-up cheeks, annoyed but not really, burying his face in the crook of Yuuri’s neck as the Gryffindor quietly chuckled at his childish demeanor. “You withheld that information just to rile me up. For _weeks_.”

Yuuri hummed, kissing his cheek, “Well, it certainly looked like you were enjoying yourself.” He replied, voice laced with a teasing undertone. “Of course, I could still have chosen not to tell you even now, but I thought I’d better spill it before you tell me not to do something like this again.”

Viktor lifted his head to glare at him, “You wouldn’t dare _not_ do something like this again.”

The smile that stretched onto Yuuri’s lips was too fond and all too loving for Viktor’s current state of mind (or any state of mind in general), and his heart swelled so quickly in his chest it ached. Yuuri lifted his hand from the water to cup his cheek, and Viktor leaned into the touch. Had he been a cat, he would have purred. Loudly. He didn’t even notice he began moving his hips again, trying to get even closer to the Gryffindor before Yuuri pointed it out.

“You’re insatiable.” Yuuri murmured softly, coaxing a once again scarlet-cheeked Viktor to tilt his head for a kiss, a gentle press of lips to lips. “Don’t ever stop being that.”

Yeah.

As if he ever would. When it came to Yuuri… everything was too much and never enough, and Viktor would always be satisfied and never sated.

Hence, Viktor placed his arms around the Gryffindor’s neck and pressed their lips together, entangling his fingers into damp, raven locks, kissing Yuuri like he was the only source of oxygen left in the world. This time, he was bucking his hips very much deliberately.

Too much and never enough.

 

“…Yuuri?”

There was no turning back any longer.

The Gryffindor hummed, looking up at Viktor from where he was sitting on the bench, dressed in sweatpants and a loose tank top, drying his hair with a towel, “Yes?”

Viktor worried his bottom lip, sitting down beside him in an attempt to gather those last pieces of courage slipping away from him.

“About… Saturday.” He began tentatively, relieved that Yuuri merely tilted his head curiously, nodding for him to continue. “I don’t want to cancel our plans for anything in the world, but…” _smile, Vitya,_ “…could we have our date at the castle instead? I have Quidditch practice in the evening, and I’d just like to, you know,” he shrugged, “stay here before that. With you.”

Thankfully, he didn’t even have to lie about the Quidditch-part, quietly thanking Sara for it.

To his utter relief, Yuuri smiled, nodding understandingly, “Of course we can stay here; just because it’s a Hogsmeade weekend doesn’t mean we have to go there.” He agreed easily. “Anything in particular on your mind, or…” a coy grin spread on his face, “…did you just want to laze around?”

Viktor might have blushed, he wasn’t sure, but he was feeling bold due to their little… escapade in the bath earlier, so he allowed a suggestive smirk to settle on his lips in turn.

“Well,” he mused, stretching out a foot to trail his toes up Yuuri’s leg, “I might have a few ideas, to be honest.”

Yuuri stared at him for a second longer before grabbing a hold of Viktor’s ankle, preventing him from reaching any further. Viktor felt satisfyingly smug as he realized the onyx of Yuuri’s pupils had dilated, swallowing the maroon iris like a black hole.

“You really are trying to kill me, aren’t you?” the Gryffindor inquired, rhetorically, “Behave yourself, Viktor,” he continued, lifting his leg further up to brush his lips against Viktor’s ankle, causing him to shiver pleasantly, gripping the edge of the bench to stay seated, “and tell me what you have in mind, hm?”

…well.

That… went much better than expected.

Viktor hummed, leaning against the wall, attempting to ignore the fact that Yuuri was placing kisses on top of his foot, “Well, like I said, I do have a few ideas…”

 

**

 

Ludmila stared into the flames in the fireplace, watching them dance across the burning wood, crackling and popping with a warm hum that did nothing to calm her tense nerves. Makkachin laid by her feet, looking up at her from time to time before placing her head back in between her front paws again, resting. Lost in thought, Ludmila barely registered her husband entering the room, yet leaned instinctively into his touch when he reached down to caress her cheek, settling down on the armrest of the armchair she was seated in.

“Talk to me, _lyubov moya_.” Ilia spoke gently, stroking her cheek. “We share this burden; don’t carry it all on your own shoulders.”

Ludmila swallowed, then let out a long sigh as he placed a kiss onto the crown of her head, leaning against him, dearly wishing she could disappear from reality into his arms, if only for a little while.

“Who?” she finally asked, voice thin and barely audible, “Who hates me so much they’re willing to use so… horrifying magic to get rid of me and my family? I’ve been thinking about it since the very beginning, and I can’t figure it out, no matter how many times Mr. Potter and Mrs. Granger have attempted to spark my memory.”

Ilia was silent long enough to know she wasn’t going to continue. Then, slowly, he replied:

“Remember, _dorogaya moya_ , that you might not even be the primary target.”

Ludmila’s lips pulled into a thin line, jaws clenching, “I refuse to believe otherwise.”

“Well, it’s not like I mean Vitya.” Ilia murmured soothingly, carefully stroking her hair. “But we can’t rule out the possibility Mr. Potter pointed out, that while the letters have all been addressed to you, the actual target could very well be myself. I know you don’t want to think that, but it’s definitely possible.” He kissed her temple.

“Mr. Potter’s suggestion that they’re sending you the letters to trick me into opening them is a very logical one, and as he also pointed out, it would certainly explain why Inferno have gone through the trouble of placing all those intricate, horrifying spells inside the envelopes.”

“But it doesn’t explain why Inferno has done nothing else than sent letters ever since we came to London.” Ludmila murmured quietly. “They knew we were on Beaumont Street, yet they only sent letters. They know Vitya is at Hogwarts, and they still send letters to _us_ , even though they know we have left West End. Why? What are they after?”

Ilia’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes showed he was thinking hard. His focused, forest green orbs had dark circles beneath them as the result of many sleepless nights, many a worry gnawing at his troubled mind. He swallowed again before slowly replying:

“If we can figure out… find out the motive, we’re a major step closer to figuring out who Inferno are.” He agreed, nodding slowly. “As for why they’ve kept sending letters… Mrs. Granger is surely onto something when she suggested Inferno might be riling us up. Make sure we get no good rest, wear us down…” he offered a sad, tired smile, “…and I’m very afraid it’s working.”

Ludmila pursed her lips tightly in response. Then, she stood up to cup her husband’s cheeks, kissing him with purpose, deep and intense. Having successfully stolen his breath away, she pulled back with another sigh, resting their foreheads together.

“We still have some Potion for Dreamless Sleep left, and tomorrow, I’m making more. You’re going to down every last drop we have tonight and then rest. Properly.” She kissed him again, stroking a thumb along his snow-white features. “I need you in full strength, Ilyusha. You need to sleep. For us. For Vitya.”

 

**

 

Aberforth Dumbledore was old, and felt even older. Born in the late 19th century, he also thought he had all the right in the world to feel old. Then Madame Hooch would come in for a drink and remind him she still gave flying lessons and refereed Quidditch games despite being past a hundred years herself, and he got the urge to down his entire liquor storage in one go, just so the feeling of utter failure would be all well and complete.

Minerva McGonagall would probably kill him herself if he ever did, and if there was one person whose bad side he never wanted to be on, it was hers. She was intimidating enough when you were on _her_ side.

Still, he felt old. His limbs moved more slowly than before, and both his sight and hearing had at some point in his life been better. Muttering curses under his breath, he sunk down in the worn and torn armchair by the window, massaging his bad knee.

It had never recovered properly after it got hit by some godforsaken curse during the Battle of Hogwarts more than seven years ago.

Sighing, Aberforth pulled out his wand to summon the teapot and a cup, then changed his mind at the last second and pointed at a half-empty bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey instead, not bothering to summon a glass. He pulled out the cork and drank straight from the bottle, the bronze liquor burning in his throat. He cursed again.

Maybe he should ask that new Potions Master, who was just as grumpy albeit not as old as himself, if he had any better concoctions than those found at the apothecary. None of them seemed sufficient in keeping away pain caused by a curse for very long, but perhaps Yakov Feltsman knew of some better options. And maybe that Transfiguration professor would stop by the following weekend again to massage his leg in exchange for free drinks. Or, rather, free Firewhiskey.

She could really hold her liquor, he had gathered. Better than he had ever been able to.

Casting a sideways glance out the window, he lifted the bottle to have another sip. However, he stilled mid-motion instead, slowly placing the bottle down and turning properly towards the window, squinting.

Someone was standing in the middle of the street, placed conveniently enough for Aberforth to be able to spot them despite the location of the Hog’s Head. They were dressed in all dark clothing, a hood pulled over their head, their features entirely obscured by the fabric.

And they were looking in the direction of the school.

Aberforth Dumbledore would never pride himself in being a particularly brave man (even though people had been intent on telling him otherwise ever since the Battle of Hogwarts), but he would be damned if he shrugged this off and let it slide as insignificant, as his gut was telling him it was anything but that. No. It was unsettling, and he should do something about it.

But while Aberforth Dumbledore wasn’t particularly brave, he wasn’t particularly dumb, either. Hence, he understood that running out in the dark with sore limbs and impaired senses was a terribly stupid idea, and that was not the course of action he should take unless he wanted to live to have some more Firewhiskey for yet another day. Luckily, there were other ways.

He cleared his throat:

“Albus, you there?” he grunted, “I’ve got a message for Minerva…”

 

**

 

Yuuri lingered a little longer in the owlery than he perhaps should have, but he was finished with his past-curfew rounds on the upper floors of the castle, and there was a little time to spare before he himself needed to be inside the Gryffindor tower again. He needed fresh air, and more than that, he needed a moment alone.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled out his wand, hand trembling slightly as he gripped the cherry wood. He needed to see it. He could _feel_ it, but he needed a visual confirmation.

Summoning courage that was slowly slipping away together with his daily dose of Anti-Anxiety Elixir, he closed his eyes, his mind immediately supplying him with the image of a brightly smiling Ravenclaw. The Viktor behind his eyelids was laughing, silver hair flowing around him elegantly as Yuuri twirled him under his arm, catching his waist to dip him down. The image shifted to the Quidditch field, Viktor on his Firebolt, daring Yuuri to catch him as he sped away as fast as he could while Yuuri used every trick in the book to succeed with the challenge. Then, they were on the ground again, walking around the lake, and suddenly they were in the Prefects’ bathroom, kissing fiercely, Viktor straddling him in the water…

Yuuri clenched his jaws. There were so many memories to choose from he couldn’t possibly pick out _one_.

…or… could he?

His thoughts wandered to an overlooked corridor and  further to an even more overlooked alcove, where his pulse quickened to an alarming rate and heart was about to burst through his ribcage as Viktor’s eager lips carefully, yet impatiently, pressed against his…

Yuuri snapped his eyes open and determinedly stilled his trembling hand. Then, he flicked his wand.

_Expecto Patronum_.

He gasped involuntarily, staring, awestruck. A small, silvery poodle happily skipped over to him, circling his legs in a greeting before escaping into the night, soon vanishing into thin air.

“ _Kami-sama_ …!” he breathed, more shocked than surprised, steadying himself with a hand against the wall, pocketing his wand as he willed his rapidly beating heart to slow down.

His little piggy was gone.

Thinking back, it was almost ironic that his patronus even had been a piglet to begin with, really. The first time he managed to summon a corporeal patronus, he had focused strongly on the memory of being treated to his father’s katsudon after his very first successful dance performance at Mahoutokoro, which had been during his first year, when he still returned home every late afternoon on the giant storm petrel.

Apparently, thinking about a celebratory pork cutlet bowl made his patronus take the form of a piglet. Yuuri had been sure the universe was making fun of him for being so happy about a bowl of food.

But now… the piggy was no more, and in its stead was a toy-sized, fluffy poodle. Maybe he would have summoned a poodle from the beginning if he had focused his happy memory on the day he got Aki-chan instead of on katsudon?

Still, it wasn’t Aki-chan that had made the small poodle patronus appear, although it did look exactly like his beloved dog. No. It might have been smaller, but other than the size, it was an exact copy of Viktor’s patronus.

Yuuri turned his back to the wall and leaned against it, fruitlessly attempting to calm down. Deep inside he knew, and had known for some time, that he had unquestionably and helplessly fallen in love with Viktor Nikiforov. Seeing his changed patronus, however, made it all the more real.

And no less terrifying.

Yes, Yuuri was sure that if he wanted to, he could have apparated to the moon and back because of how happy he was, loving Viktor and praying to Merlin the feeling was mutual, but fear had never looked him more intently in the eye either. The sudden burst of warmth in the inner pocket of his robes did nothing to quell the latter.

Yuuri tensed at the familiar sensation, then scrambled to pull out the unassuming piece of parchment, rolling it out with trembling fingers.

_Dark figure spotted in Hogsmeade tonight; matches IN:s description. Defense spells around the castle are currently being strengthened. Stay close to him._

The message vanished the moment he had reached the end, and was immediately replaced with a simple, ordinary to do-list. Yuuri cursed under his breath, fists clenching as his heart sank.

Viktor had already been banned from visiting Hogsmeade, he knew, and he had almost considered suggesting they stay at the castle himself just to spare him from having to come up with an excuse, but Viktor had finally summoned the courage to do so. Then again, Viktor might have suspected something if Yuuri had just conveniently offered him an excuse, so in hindsight, it was definitely better he had managed to come up with something on his own.

And apparently, the Hogsmeade-ban from Viktor’s parents had really arrived in the nick of time, if a dark figure had been spotted in the village too recently for comfort. Possibly only minutes ago. An involuntary shudder ran up Yuuri’s spine.

There was no telling what could have happened if they had visited Hogsmeade the upcoming weekend.

Yuuri frowned, clenching his jaws.

_Stay close to him_.

What else could he do other than stay close to Viktor? What more could he possibly do to protect him? Sure, he could strengthen the protective spells he had placed on him again, but…

…was it enough?

Worrying his bottom lip, he pulled out another piece of parchment, unfolding it to look at the notes. He swallowed thickly, then drew a shaky breath. He steeled his nerves.

Maybe there actually was one more thing he could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, the weekend just blew right past my face this time around, and on Tuesday, we adopted a 4-5-year-old, sensitive cat that was caught last December from the streets and spent the entire first month in the foster home hiding behind the washing machine. She spent the first two days and night here beneath the kitchen table and we served her food and water there, too, because she refused to move those two meters to where she should actually eat, but she's gaining courage, taking baby steps. Last night, around 3 am, she started meowing for the first time to tell us she had discovered the living room, and in the early morning, she sneaked into the bedroom to sleep beneath our bed. Now? She's sleeping on said bed. This is going much better than we expected, because when we visited the foster home, she downright refused coming out from beneath the couch. I might have spoiled her with food already... oops...
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I'll try to keep the schedule of posting a chapter weekly (didn't happen this time around due to circumstances) as well as I can. And if the universe would be nice to me this time around, I should have time to reply to a bunch of your amazing and heart-warming, lovely comments tomorrow afternoon before I head out of town for the weekend again ^.^ Know that I have read each and every one of them (they do show up in my e-mail), and I'm very touched and very happy <3
> 
> Take care, and please share all these free hugs with friends and other loved ones *hugs!*


	10. If only there weren't Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Screw Inferno, Viktor thinks, despite the name haunting his dreams. He has other things to focus on. Like Quidditch and Yuuri.  
> If only it were that simple.

”Has the figure been spotted since then?”

Harry shook his head apologetically, willing his demeanor to stay calm while the façade Ludmila Nikiforova wore like an armor was slowly crumbling in unhinged worry for her son.

“No, ma’am.” He replied, equal parts reassuring and concerned. “Neither Mr. Dumbledore nor Madam Rosmerta have reported anything from Hogsmeade since then.”

“Are Viktor’s friends still allowed to visit the village?” Ludmila demanded to know, her grip on the leather of the armrest tightening slightly.

“Yes.” Harry steeled himself. “It’s… complicated.”

Ludmila muttered something under her breath in Russian that earned her a sympathetic from her husband, and she seemed to barely acknowledge Ilia taking her hand in his. Harry decided to continue:

“If we forbid everyone form going to Hogsmeade, they’re going to demand an explanation.” He spoke slowly, treading carefully. “And at Hogwarts, lying never goes far. People will find out the truth one way or another, usually sooner rather than later, and suddenly, Viktor will be in even more danger than before.”

“His friends are in danger enough every time they leave the castle.” Ludmila clipped back curtly.

“Which is why all the teachers now know about the situation, and also why Hogsmeade will be crawling with undercover aurors during all upcoming Hogsmeade visits.” Harry explained patiently, an annoying, nagging voice in the back of his mind insisting on reminding him that Hermione would be better at this. “They’ll be well looked after and protected.”

“Inferno isn’t going to try anything grand in the village though.” Ilia spoke up, bright green gaze piercing its way through Harry’s skull. “They’re more clever than that, they’ve shown as much so far. They’re not going to blow up Hogsmeade or set the Three Broomsticks on fire, they’re not going to draw attention to themselves. No, they’re going to target individuals close to Viktor; his friends, his housemates… everyone he interacts with.”

“I assure you, Mr. Nikiforov, that we’ve taken this into consideration.” Harry replied softly. “It’s our top priority to see to it that people like Christophe Giacometti and Seung-Gil Lee are safe.”

“And Viktor’s boyfriend?” Ludmila immediately inquired, “Yuuri?”

Harry offered her a reassuring smile, “Mr. Katsuki will be staying at Hogwarts with Viktor, or so everyone thinks. Professor McGonagall insists they are inseparable, so it’s highly unlikely that Mr. Katsuki will go to Hogsmeade without Viktor.”

Ilia contemplatively ran a hand through Makkachin’s fur, a thoughtful crease on his otherwise marble-smooth brow.

“Would it be better…” he finally said, slowly, the slightest hint of hesitation in his voice, “…if Yuuri knew?”

“Then Chris would need to know as well.” Ludmila stated without a second thought. “They’re the ones closest to Viktor.”

Harry contemplated his reply carefully before speaking up:

“I’ll talk to Mrs. Granger and the Headmistress about it.”

Well, it wasn’t a lie.

 

**

 

The Great Hall was filled with excited buzzing and smiling faces on the morning of the second Saturday of November, apart from a few students who were casting worried glances up at the magical ceiling, waiting for the grey clouds to darken and start spilling rain. Among those worried students were all the members of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Quidditch teams.

And at least one Gryffindor.

“Keep your wand with you.” Yuuri suggested, a crease of concern on his forehead as he eyed the ceiling. “In case you need to waterproof your broom and your gloves… and let’s hope it doesn’t start pouring.”

“A light drizzle is unpleasant, but okay.” Viktor thought, glancing up towards the gloomy clouds for the umpteenth time. “It’s quite windy, though.”

“We’ve practiced in weather much worse than this.” Chris reminded him, trying to keep their spirits up. “It’s not raining, and the trees aren’t even bent in half. We’ll be fine.”

Viktor worried his bottom lip as he nodded, finishing off his breakfast and downing the last of his pumpkin juice. Then, he leaned against Yuuri’s side, like he had a habit of doing when nervousness was pooling in his gut and he needed some reassurance; something to ground him. Yuuri wrapped an arm around him instinctively, and Viktor snuggled closer, still.

It wasn’t just the upcoming game, it wasn’t. In fact, the match against Hufflepuff was a warmly welcomed distraction more than anything.

No, the nervousness in the pit of his stomach barely had anything to do with Quidditch, but instead, it had partially to do with the fact that he still hadn’t worked up the courage to ask Yuuri about the DADA-tutoring that would (and had to) replace the Hogsmeade visits.  Only partially, though.

Because mostly, it had to do with Inferno.

The name haunted Viktor’s dreams, appearing in front of him, spelled out in cold, poison green flames across a faceless figure dressed in black, hidden behind veils and veils of darkness and shadows. In the dreams, he would run from the figure, but it would appear again and again, blocking his path, and when he tried backing away from it, it would draw closer, reaching out for him with a snow white, bony and lifeless hand to grab him. He would panic, fall to the groundless surface, fruitlessly scrambling away until the hand wrapped around his wrist.

He would then wake up in cold sweat with tears streaming down his face, sometimes with a very worried Chris on his bedside, demanding Viktor tell him about the dream so it wouldn’t haunt him again. It was a gesture Viktor highly appreciated. Sadly enough, he really couldn’t tell Chris all about the dream and had to leave the name unsaid.

However, during the nights he didn’t sleep alone, the dreams were different.

Inferno would still be there, clad in black and name written in venomous flames, but when Viktor would stumble, he would be rescued by a pair of steady arms, a warm, firm body keeping him upright. Keeping him safe.

In those dreams, Yuuri would step in front of him, wand raised, and drive Inferno away with spells so powerful and amazing that instead of waking up in cold sweat, Viktor would wake up feeling warm and fuzzy all over, filled to the brim with life and love. Then, he would snuggle closer to Yuuri, whose grip would tighten around him, even in his sleep.

It was after those dreams that Viktor often found himself wondering just how powerful a wizard Yuuri really was. Summoning a patronus nonverbally was a small indicator, but he was certain there was more to it. More to Yuuri than the Gryffindor wanted to give away about himself. He had never seen Yuuri duel, and it bugged him more than he wanted to admit that he was a year younger than his boyfriend, because Viktor was absolutely certain that seeing him in DADA-class would be a spectacular sight.

Even though, seeing as Yuuri was quite a modest person, he would probably be holding back there, too.

Well, all the more reason for Viktor to pull himself together and actually ask about the tutoring, right?

…but that would have to wait until after the game.

When Sara announced it was time for the team to get going to the pitch, Yuuri stood up to embrace him tightly, and Viktor gratefully buried his face into Yuuri’s shoulder, fingers digging into the fabric of the Gryffindor’s robes. He felt a soft kiss being pressed to his temple, smiling lips resting gently against it. Viktor couldn’t help but smile in turn.

How did Yuuri do that?

“ _Davai._ ”

_Huh?_

Viktor couldn’t have stopped the enormous grin spreading on his face even if he had wanted to (not that he really did want to). He lifted his head to beam at Yuuri.

“You remembered!”

Yuuri grinned back, stealing a kiss.

“Of course I did.” He murmured, tilting his head up to place a kiss on Viktor’s nose. “And I mean it. Now,” he put on his stern-and-worried-mother-look, and Viktor really had to hold back his laughter, “stay safe and don’t do anything stupid.”

Viktor snorted, “Tell that to your own Seeker.”

“I do.” Yuuri confirmed, frowning. “Before every game; he just never listens.”

“Want to know a secret?” Viktor asked, leaning in to steal a kiss in turn, smirking against Yuuri’s lips, “It’s a Seeker thing. Our hearing is very selective.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes, but his expression was fond.

“I’ll send flowers to the Hospital Wing in advance, then.”

Viktor frowned, pouting, “Well, _thanks_ , I guess.”

“Oh no, not for you,” Yuuri clarified, a cheeky glint in his eyes, “for myself, so I have something nice to look at while recovering from the heart attack you’re about to give me.” When Viktor gaped at him, Yuuri pulled him in for a short but intense kiss that left Viktor breathless. “Go on, the others are waiting for you.” _Kiss_. “See you later.”

 

“All right, listen up!”

Viktor’s mouth snapped shut at once, and so did everyone else’s when Sara spoke up. The team captain was standing in front of them, one hand on her hop and the other holding her recently polished Cleansweeper Eleven, her chestnut hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. The determination in her demeanor and her glistening, amethyst eyes was stronger than Viktor had ever witnessed before, and he generally viewed Sara as a highly determined and headstrong person. And a little bossy (or maybe a lot), but not really in a bad way.

She was just taking determination to the next level when faced with a Quidditch game, apparently.

“Gryffindor has a huge lead in the tournament with 350 points,” she reminded them for the millionth time, “but we can close that gap and give them a real run for their money, and we start by beating Hufflepuff. They have a new Keeper, Takeshi Nishigori, and I have to hand it to Leo that he has chosen wisely, despite the fact that it’s Nishigori’s last year at Hogwarts and he’ll have to find another one next year again. Nishigori is sturdy, but we’re all small and quick, so we should have this in the bag. Also, we have the best Keeper in the entire school on our team, and no one will ever be able to convince me otherwise.” Seung-Gil straightened up ever so slightly at the direct praise.

“Now, if we’re going to have a chance at catching up to Gryffindor, we need to go all out, and we need to stall for time to get in as many goals as possible.” She looked at Viktor. “This means that you, Viktor, have to follow our scoring and if you spot the Snitch before we hit at least 100 points, distract Ji from seeing it. Don’t mind Hufflepuff’s score, mind only our own.” Her grip on her broom tightened. “We’re aiming to give everyone a challenge, and we’re going to win that challenge. Let’s go, Ravenclaw!”

Viktor applauded her enthusiastically along with the others before grabbing his Firebolt and following the others to the door leading to the pitch, placing himself last in line along with Seung-Gil. Chris and Hilary placed themselves directly behind Sara, and Louis and Sherwood stood in front of Viktor and Seung-Gil, all in position to walk out onto the field.

Sara cracked the door open just a little so they would be able to hear the commentator, the magical megaphone thankfully making Thora Dinnet’s voice well audible over all the cheering from the stands. Viktor suddenly felt giddy and terribly excited, all traces of nervousness gone, warmth spreading in his chest instead as he remembered Yuuri would be watching.

Watching _him_.

“Gooooood _moooooo_ rning, Hogwarts, and here we have all religiously assembled today once more to witness another epic game of Quidditch, the second in line in the Hogwarts Inter-House Cup! Gryffindor is currently in the lead with a mindboggling 350 points after an earth-shattering win against Slytherin, who scored a tragically sad amount of 30 doleful points-“

“Dinnet, behave!”

“But it _was_ very sad, I’m wiping my tears, see?” Viktor struggled not to snort aloud as it was clear Dinnet was wiping away tears caused by suppressed laughter, “As I was saying, Slytherin have 30 sad points and are currently in second. They won’t be staying there for long, though, because that’s going to change soon enough, right on this grey and windy Saturday!”

That was definitely their cue.

Sara gave them one last nod for good luck before pushing the door open and leading them out onto the field, the Hufflepuff team in yellow and black approaching from the opposite end. Viktor felt his adrenaline spike, thrumming against his eardrums and rushing through his veins, heartbeat speeding up along with the enormous amount of energy radiating from the loudly cheering audience, and a bright grin spread on his face.

He couldn’t wait to get up in the air and get going.

“And there we have them entering the field, the badgers and the eagles! No one still understands why the ravens are eagles, but that’s a mystery Rowena Ravenclaw took to her grave and left us wondering about. Anyhow! On the Hufflepuff team, my house team, my precious darling, my darling sons and daughters-“

“Dinnet!”

“On Team Puffskeins, we have Chasers Emil Nekola and Haruka Endoh, Beaters Melvin Catterick and Hecate Oakham, Keeper Takeshi Nishigori, Seeker Guang-Hong Ji, and team captain, Chaser Leo de la Iglesia!”

The cheers from the audience weren’t as deafening down on the grass as they were up in the stands, but they were still loud and definitely well audible. The cheers put a sun-rivaling grin on Leo de la Iglesia’s face, his caramel hair pulled back and away from his face, and he carried with him an aura of easy-going, humble confidence as he and the Hufflepuff team reached the middle of the pitch only a few steps before the Ravenclaws did.

Viktor hadn’t interacted with Leo much even though they were in the same year and had a few classes together. He did know, though, that the Latin-American was amazing at potions and that he had music as an extra-curricular activity, which he also showed great promise in, apparently. At least if one were to believe Otabek, which Viktor did, because Otabek also had music as an EC and was generally sparse with voicing his opinion at all.

“And on the other side of the pitch, we have the Ravenclaws, the team famous for showing a headstrong, stubborn determination only rivaled by angry goats, – it’s a compliment, professor! – we have Chasers Christophe Giacometti and Hilary Erskine, Beaters Louis Arnet and Sherwood Partington, Keeper Seung-Gil Lee, Seeker Viktor Nikiforov, and team captain, Chaser Sara Crispino!”

“Now, I want to see a fair and just game!” Madame Hooch demanded of them while Dinnet was busy introducing the referee in question. “Captains, shake hands.”

Sara and Leo met in the middle of the field, and Leo said something to Sara that Viktor could barely make out as “good luck”, and Sara seemed to respond in the same manner. Briefly, he caught Guang-Hong Ji glancing at him, the fifth-year looking ever so slightly nervous as he gripped his Nimbus 2001 tightly, a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks. Viktor offered a smile he hoped was reassuring, and Ji blinked, seemingly confused for a second. Then, the corners of his mouth curved up into a brief smile in return,

Good enough.

“Mount your brooms,” Madame Hooch ordered, “and take your aerial positions.”

Finally.

Viktor practically jumped onto his broom, eager to get going, and he could have sworn he was the first to kick off after Sara and Leo. The wind immediately took hold of his ponytail, the silver tail whipping behind him, the Quidditch uniform just heavy enough not to fly up and hit him in the face. He kept an eye on Ji while ascending further, rising slightly above the Beaters, who in turn were hovering a few meters above the Chasers that had formed two half-circles around the middle of the pitch, Sara and Leo in position to start the game, and the Keepers steady in the air in front of the goalposts.

Sara hadn’t been kidding when she said Leo had chosen his Keeper wisely. Takeshi Nishigori was indeed sturdy and looked quite bulky, and Viktor was certain that he would be able to cover all three goal-hoops at the same time without moving if he wanted to.

It seemed they had an interesting game ahead of them.

_Fweeeeeet!_

Viktor barely registered the whistle blowing before Sara suddenly threw herself over the Quaffle, snatching it right in front of Leo’s nose, and immediately started Ravenclaw’s first offense towards the Hufflepuff goalposts.

“And they’re off, Crispino immediately showing that stubborn Ravenclaw determination by grabbing the Quaffle right in front of de la Iglesia’s face and setting off towards the scoring area, Oakham directs a Bludger her way, what _strength_ our lady has in her enviably muscular arms! But, _no_ , Crispino passes to Giacometti and does a Sloth Grip Roll to dodge the Bludger, and Giacometti passes immediately to Erskine who tosses it right back to hi-, _nope_ , she doesn’t because de la Iglesia appears from thin air and catches the Quaffle mid-pass and zooms towards the Ravenclaw posts, passes to Endoh who con-, _actually_ , she gets rulebook-cleanly tackled by a very stubborn Crispino who charges in like it’s nobody’s business but her own, Endoh drops the Quaffle and Giacometti catches it from beneath…”

Unlike in the game between Gryffindor and Slytherin, the Quaffle really got tossed back and forth between the teams a lot before Hilary finally managed to score a goal, Nishigori only a hair’s breadth away from blocking the shot. Viktor was too busy looking for the Snitch to follow the game visually, but he could still hear Dinnet loud and clear.

“That’s ten points to Ravenclaw – come on, my baby Puffskeins! – and Nishigori looks slightly disappointed in himself; apparently, he hasn’t played Quidditch much at all since his Mahoutokoro days, unlike Gryffindor’s Yuuri Katsuki, who just never stopped. It’s okay, Takeshi, have no fear; Yuuko still wants to marry you!”

“And Nekola catches the Quaffle from Nishigori, dodges a Bludger from Partington and passes to de la Iglesia, who shimmies his way through the Ravenclaw Chasers aaaaaand- _no!_ Keeper Lee reminds the entirety of Hogwarts that he’s a living and breathing brick wall; he blocks the shot like a _boss_ and passes to Crispino, who wastes no time flying towards the other end of the field with the wind in her hair and determination in her eyes – I’m sorry, Leo darling, but I can’t help my enormous lady crush on this _gorgeous_ …”

“Dinnet, for Merlin’s sake!”

“But have you _seen_ her, professor?!”

Viktor couldn’t help but laugh as he spotted Minako Okukawa’s lemon-sour expression next to Thora Dinnet’s cheerfully cheeky grin as the latter continued commentating the game while blatantly sharing her opinions with the entire school. In the span of perhaps ten or twenty minutes, Viktor learned that Dinnet found Sara gorgeous and that she thought she was Mila Babicheva’s soulmate, that Leo was the sweetest sweetheart of all sweet hearts to ever exist, and that Chris’ _assets_ deserved an award and a ban from the Hogwarts’ grounds simultaneously (“ _Dinnet, I’ll be deducting points from Hufflepuff for this!_ ” “I was talking about his gorgeous eyes, professor!”).

There!

Viktor squinted. Yes, that was definitely a glint of gold, barely visible, hovering right below the Hufflepuff goal-hoops.

Ravenclaw was in the lead, but they had only 30 points to Hufflepuff’s zero, and if they wanted to close in on the distance to Gryffindor’s 350 points, Viktor couldn’t risk having Guang-Hong spotting the Snitch just yet.

“And Crispino scores again, that’s a total of 40 points to Ravenclaw, and Slytherin has now fallen to third place in the tournament!”

Nope. They really didn’t have enough points yet.

Hence, Viktor turned his Firebolt in the exact opposite direction of the Snitch, speeding off towards the Ravenclaw-side of the field instead, intent on having Ji following him blindly. Apparently, it worked.

“It looks like Ravenclaw’s new Seeker has spotted the Snitch, and Ji is flying after the Firebolt as fast as he can, but Nikiforov is faster than a fairy in a hurricane, look at that _speed_ , people! He’s light as a feather in the air, a grace only rivaled by his darling Katsuki, I’d gather, and Ji is _willing_ his broom to faster…!”

Of course, the Snitch wasn’t even remotely in the direction Viktor had flow, so he distracted everyone with a loop, just to get the chance to make sure the Snitch had disappeared, before making it look like his “chase” was interrupted by the Bludger sent in his direction. There were disappointed moans and groans from the audience, so Viktor made sure to flash his fellow Ravenclaws a smile and shrug apologetically before returning to circling the field, keeping himself warm while keeping an eye out for the Snitch.

He spotted the elusive, golden ball a couple times more, and used the same tactic of flying in another direction at high speed to distract Ji, attempting to give Sara, Chris and Hilary more time to score more goals.

However, the process certainly wasn’t Gryffindor-levels of fast.

“And Giacometti scores Ravenclaw their seventh goal and is throwing out kisses for everyone to catch – thank you, darling, I’m flattered; don’t make Arnet jealous, all right? Ravenclaw is now in the lead with 70 points against 20 for Hufflepuff; I believe in you, Puffskeins!”

Viktor had no idea what time of day it was any longer, but judging by the fact that several students in the stands were pulling out lunch packets from their bags, it was around noon already. The game had possibly lasted longer than Gryffindor’s game against Slytherin, and Viktor’s stomach decided to remind him that food was very, very nice, and that his belly would like some very, very much.

He ignored his stomach. The Snitch was hovering above the Ravenclaw stands.

 

“Viktor’s stalling for time, isn’t he?” Phichit pondered, amused, watching as the Ravenclaw Seeker headed towards the Hufflepuff stands at high speed, Guang-Hong trailing after him one again, “I mean, the Snitch is right _there_ , above the Ravenclaws.”

“Sara wants to try and catch up to us, score-wise.” Yuuri nodded thoughtfully, a smile settling on his lips as Viktor performed a beautiful spiral, hair whipping behind him and a demand for attention. As if Yuuri’s attention really could be directed elsewhere to begin with. “If Guang-Hong doesn’t spot the Snitch soon himself, we’ll be here the whole day.”

Phichit shrugged, pulling out his lunch sandwich, “I came prepared.”

Yuuri followed suit, wordlessly pulling out his own sandwich, eating slowly while never taking his eyes off Viktor.

The Snitch had disappeared again, just like Viktor had wanted it to do. Probably. Yuuri knew better than anyone just how distracting Viktor could be, especially when he wanted to, and he also knew that if Viktor continued to charm Guang-Hong’s glances away from the Snitch with his Veela-like powers, the poor boy wouldn’t be able to look at anyone or anything else but him, which also meant he wouldn’t be looking hard enough for the Snitch himself.

Guang-Hong was a great Seeker, but he did lack self-confidence still, having gradually built it up over time. Having someone as charismatic as Viktor on the field was surely a worry-factor for the Hufflepuff team.

Yes, Viktor was unfairly distracting, and his fairy-like looks were only the tip of the iceberg. Yuuri was sure he could write an entire encyclopedia describing the many distracting traits of Viktor Nikiforov, and still run out of both ink, parchment and pages before he was done.

“And it appears that the Snitch has been elusive for both Seekers yet again, and de la Iglesia is scolding his Beaters for distracting the both of them too much, blocking not only Nikiforov but also Ji – maybe that’s considered a foul? Apparently, it isn’t, because Madame Hooch says nothing at all and the game continues; de la Iglesia has-, nope, he hasn’t, he loses the Quaffle to Crispino who cleanly tackles him and takes the ball herself, now speeding off towards Nishigori and the hoops, Endoh coming to meet her as fast as her broom can fly, Crispino drops the Quaffle to Erskine and avoids being tackled at the last second, Erskine loops and passes to Cr-, _no_ , to Giacometti, who comes from literally _nowhere_ to score Ravenclaw a total of 100 points!”

“They’re not exactly keeping the same pace as we did.” Mila commented, looking ever so slightly smug. Yuuri eyed her knowingly.

“Did you make a bet, by any chance?”

“With, how was it, your _soulmate_ , perhaps?” Phichit winked at her. Mila winked back, smirk stretching into a mischievous grin.

“I’m winning.”

“So is Ravenclaw, if the Snitch doesn’t appear right in front of Guang-Hong’s face and Viktor happens to be on the opposite side of the field.” Otabek stated, arms crossed over his chest. “Viktor is much faster, more accurate, and definitely more confident in his skills. He knows how good he is, and he knows how to use it.”

“I’m beginning to understand what you’ve been trying to warn me about, Yuuri-kun.” Phichit nodded in agreement with Otabek, mouth full of food. “Viktor is like a terribly accurate lightning bolt.”

“And a very graceful one at that.” Mila mused, watching the silver-haired Seeker circling the pitch with easy elegance. “He looks completely weightless like that, and that _spiral_ he did… so beautifully _flashy_.”

Yuuri didn’t fight the fond smile settling on his lips.

A tendency for flamboyancy indeed.

 

Viktor’s fingertips were numb and he was sure that the tip of his nose was about to freeze and fall off at any second, right before Sara and Leo collectively called for a time-out so they could have a lunch sandwich and some water. Thankfully, it still hadn’t started either drizzling or pouring, but the wind was picking up in speed, and it was steadily bringing darker and darker clouds towards Hogwarts and the Quidditch pitch. Unfortunately.

“All right,” Sara sighed, placing down her empty water bottle, “we have managed twelve goals, Hufflepuff has managed four. We’re lucky Guang-Hong hasn’t spotted the Snitch yet, but he’s definitely not blind, and he will notice it sooner or later.” She nodded to Viktor. “We want to end the game before nightfall.”

“We want to end the game before those clouds reach Hogwarts.” Louis reasoned, gesturing towards the menacing darkness in the distance. Sara pursed her lips, but nodded.

“Well… yes, that, too.” She finally agreed. “Okay, let’s do this; come on!”

“And the teams are now ready to resume the game after a snack – thanks for that, captains, I did very much enjoy my gourmet sandwich – and the Quaffle is handed to Leo de la Iglesia as Ravenclaw is in the lead with a whopping 120 points to 40, meaning Slytherin has dropped to last place in the overall standings, how sucky for-“

“Language, Dinnet!”

“I’m speaking English, professor, what more do you want from me? Madame Hooch blows the whistle and they’re off again! De la Iglesia passes to Nekola straight away, and Nekola flies like his life is depending on it, passing back to de la Iglesia, who barely avoids both Giacometti and a Bludger, back to Nekola who _sco-, ooooh_ _no_ , he doesn’t; Lee _apparates_ to the left and flicks the Quaffle without delay to Erskine, who passes to Giacometto, who dodges both de la Iglesia and Nekola, Endoh is in the way but he throws the Quaffle to Cris-, _Christ Jesus muggle Merlin_ what a goal! Nishigori has _no_ idea what happened, and that’s completely okay, honey, because that was out of the blue!”

Viktor gaped at Sara as the Ravenclaw supporters went wild. His team captain looked incredibly satisfied with herself, and for good reason.

Instead of catching the Quaffle when Chris had passed it to her, she had twirled around gracefully and used a straight-out-of-the-book Finbourgh Flick to steer the ball directly thought the left-most goalpost at high speed. Nishigori did indeed look completely dumbfounded, understandably, but Viktor couldn’t help but giggle anyway.

A confused Takeshi Nishigori looked like a terribly confused gorilla.

“What an amazing display of sheer talent and hard work from Sara Crispino, once again reminding all of Hogwarts why she’s the queen of the pitch and team captain extraordinaire. And the Quaffle is once again in the capable hands of our sweetheart de la Iglesia, and he’s determinedly headed towards the Ravenclaw side…”

Viktor spotted the Snitch closer to the ground, but Guang-Hong was looking upwards at that moment, so he decided to just let it slip away once more. The clouds were drawing closer, however, and Viktor decided that whenever he spotted the tiny, golden ball the next time, whether it was in five seconds or five hours, he’d go for it. He was already freezing, and he really didn’t want to get soaked.

Unless getting soaked meant a warm bath. Preferably with Yuuri.

Shaking his head, determined not to let himself get distracted by thoughts of Yuuri for once, no matter how pleasant they were, he snapped out of his brief daydream to continue looking for the Snitch.

His teeth were already clattering slightly, and he couldn’t feel his toes or fingers any longer. Cursing himself for not just going for the ball when he spotted it not a minute ago, he turned around-

_Oh!_

“Endoh catches the Quaf-, _flying Flobberworm_ , Nikiforov has yet again spotted the Snitch, and he’s not about to be interrupted this time around, look at him go! He’s heading straight for the Gryffindor stands and Ji is trying his uttermost best to keep up, but Nikiforov is terribly, _terribly_ quick, dodging _two Bludgers_ like they aren’t even there, never taking his eyes off his goal, chasing the Snitch across the field, Ji determinedly following but keeping up with Nikiforov is _impossible_ …!”

The wind was howling in Viktor’s ringing ears, and he had no hope of hearing anything more of Dinnet’s commentary, but it didn’t matter. The Snitch was right in front of him, just a little more and it would be within his reach.

He kept his eyes fixed on the golden ball as he dodged yet another Bludger, and it had been good he did, because the Snitch decided to abruptly change course altogether and head straight upwards. Viktor pulled his broom upright and shot after it, laying himself flat against the stick. Vaguely, somewhere in the distance, he heard Dinnet screaming something along the lines of “cork out of a champagne bottle,” right before he pulled himself a little higher up on the broom to finally grasp the damned little flutterbastard in his hand.

_Finally!_

He heard the cheers over the roaring wind as he flew back down towards the pitch, Snitch in hand, and was suddenly tackled by both Chris and Sara, showering him in praise as the rest of the team gathered around them as well.

“Viktor Nikiforov catches the Snitch in his first ever Quidditch game at Hogwarts with a staggering showcase of enormous talent – I hope you were watching, Seekers – and secures Ravenclaw’s victory with 280 points against the 50 that my brave Hufflepuffs were able to score; you did amazing Puffskeins, I still adore you all, but _Ravenclaw wins!_ ”

“Amazing.” Sara told Viktor as they descended to the ground to the energetic chants from the audience. “That was a very nice catch.”

“You made a very nice goal.” Viktor complimented back. Sara grinned.

“We’re only seventy points behind Gryffindor… for now. We can close that gap.”

Viktor really did admire Sara’s determination. Maybe Dinnet’s “angry goat”-description hadn’t been too far off at all.

 

“First game at Hogwarts, and you _nailed_ it!” Chris grinned at Viktor as they headed up from the collective bath towards the seventh floor, “Awesome game, through and through.”

“Thanks, and it was.” Viktor agreed, smiling brightly, running his fingers through his, for once, loose silver hair. “I remember freezing my ass off, but now, I can’t even remember why I thought that was horrible.”

“Asses freezing off are a tragedy too horrifying for me to speak about any further.” Chris stated dramatically. “I do prefer to keep it attached to my body, thank you very much. Even Dinnet likes my behind.”

“I thought she was talking about your eyes, darling.” Louis teased, pinching the aforementioned asset. Chris merely smirked and winked at him.

“You didn’t get jealous, did you?”

Viktor, however, found himself distracted from the rest of the suggestive conversation due to the familiar figure that had just appeared within his field of vision. His face broke into a bright, beaming smile.

 “Yuuuur-iiiii!” he sing-songed happily, skipping the rest of the way up to his boyfriend that was waiting by the entrance of the Ravenclaw Tower, jumping up in the air with the full confidence that Yuuri would catch him (he did). Viktor grinned down at him, “Was I good?”

Yuuri laughed, and so did Mila, Sara, Hilary and Phichit, who were also present. He lowered Viktor down to kiss him while Sara finished the task of answering the riddle posed by the bronze knocker to let them all in.

The Gryffindor’s eyes were filled with so much adoration that Viktor felt his lungs stop working for a second, his heart skipping a beat.

“I couldn’t look away.”

Oh. _Oh!_

Viktor’s heart used Engorgio on itself to swell to unimaginable sizes in his chest. Unable to stop smiling, he took Yuuri’s hand and dragged him into the common room without any further ado.

Screw Inferno.

No dark sorcerer in the world would be able to bring down Viktor’s euphoric mood that night. Not when he drank butterbeer with Yuuri, Chris and Louis until he was certain he was actually drunk on it (he wasn’t, but he was drunk on happiness and lack of sleep), not when he danced all over the common room with Yuuri to a melody only they could hear, not when Chris insisted the entire team should wear the Ravenclaw banners as togas (even Sara did, much to Mila’s delight), and especially not when Yuuri very willingly allowed Viktor to drag him up to his dormitory well past midnight to find the room empty.

“Has Chris got anything to do with this, by any chance?” Yuuri inquired, terribly amused as Viktor pushed him down to sit on the bad so he could climb into his lap and straddle him.

“Yes and no.” Viktor grinned, reaching for the hem of Yuuri’s shirt to pull it off. “Seung-Gil declared he would take the couch, so Louis and Chris will be sleeping in Louis’ dorm, and Nate and Sherwood have a tradition with a few others to play Exploding Snap through the night after a Ravenclaw game – hence, they’re also staying elsewhere.” He placed his arms around Yuuri’s neck and leaned in to speak against his lips: “Stay the night?”

Yuuri hummed against his lips before kissing him slowly, placing his hands on Viktor’s hips to pull him closer.

“As if I could say no to you.”

 

Viktor woke up to sunlight the following morning, but ignored in favor of snuggling closer to the very warm, very naked body next to him, smiling into Yuuri’s skin. He was still breathing slowly and evenly, chest rising and falling steadily, but as he seemed to have habit of knowing when Viktor was awake, he would probably wake up soon enough.

_Ask him already!_

Closing his eyes, Viktor worried his bottom lip between his teeth. Yes, he _really_ needed to ask Yuuri about the DADA-tutoring. He was in dire need of an excuse not to visit Hogsmeade, and among the array of bad excuses, it was probably the best one to be found.

Like Viktor had guessed, Yuuri soon stirred, only a little, and pulled Viktor closer to him before blinking his eyes open, squinting as they adjusted to the light. He placed a kiss to Viktor’s forehead before murmuring something that didn’t sound like English.

“Good morning to you, too.” Viktor grinned, nuzzling his neck. “What was it you said?”

“ _Ohayoo_.” Yuuri yawned, smiling tiredly. “Good morning, indeed. How do you say it in Russian?”

“ _Dobroe utro_.”

“…I’ll learn that someday. Dyobre ootra.”

Viktor giggled, planting butterfly kisses on Yuuri’s neck, “Almost.”

“Sure.” Yuuri croaked, humming as he allowed Viktor to continue his ministrations. “I gather you’ve slept well.”

“Very.” Viktor confirmed, pushing Yuuri onto his back and climbing on top of him, still covered by the duvet. It was actually true; he had slept well. The Quidditch game had drained him, and after the extensive celebrations (both in the common room and in Viktor’s bed), he had had slept like a log. No nightmares or anything of the sort; only glorious sleep and Yuuri’s warm presence right beside him, body pressed tight against his own.

Yuuri groaned as Viktor reached down to grab a hold of them both, all too happy to discover he wasn’t the only one suffering greatly from a case of morning wood.

“You’re really going to make a mess this early in the morning?”

The question was, of course, entirely rhetorical.

Viktor grinned cheekily, leaning down to kiss his boyfriend, “It’s easy enough to clean.”

 

“Can I… ask you something?”

Yuuri cocked an eyebrow as he pulled on his shirt, attempting to locate his boxers, “Of course you can.” He replied, as if it was obvious (it was), managing to locate his underwear and pull them on as well, turning his full attention to Viktor. “What’s on your mind?”

_A lot_.

Viktor merely smiled and shook his head.

“It’s… stupid, actually.”

Yuuri tilted his head, a slightly troubled crease appearing on his brow.

“Not if it’s bothering you it isn’t.” He assured, reaching for Viktor’s hand to entwine their fingers together, encouraging him.

And suddenly, Viktor felt _really_ stupid, because this was _Yuuri_. Viktor kicked himself mentally. Yuuri would never think he was stupid. He wouldn’t laugh when he knew Viktor was being serious about something.

He would listen and it would be okay. Because he was Yuuri.

And all Viktor really had to do was _ask_.

“I…” Viktor worried his bottom lip, squeezing Yuuri’s hand as the Gryffindor patiently waited for him to speak, “…this is so embarrassing…” he took a deep breath, “…not too long ago, I spoke with Professor Cialdini, and he told me that while I’m doing a decent job at DADA, he felt I’m not… that I’m not as good as I could be.” Lying to Yuuri was so, so hard, but it wasn’t all a lie, because Viktor actually _had_ talked everything through with Professor Cialdini when he had decided to take up on Yakov’s proposal and go with the DADA-tutoring excuse.

“He… suggested I ask you if…” Viktor blushed up to his ears, unable to look Yuuri in the eye and instead speaking to his knees, “…if you would tutor me.”

When Yuuri showed no signs of running away, Viktor dared look up at him again. Yuuri’s maroon eyes were wide in surprise and he was gaping slightly, definitely taken aback.

“You…” Yuuri cleared his throat as his voice suddenly cracked, throat dry, and tried again, “…you want me to… tutor you? In DADA?”

Viktor nodded vigorously to make a point, “Yes. Please.” He blushed even deeper. “I… want to get better at it, a-and you’re excellent at it, s-so…” he squeezed Yuuri’s hand tight, “…please?”

Puppy eyes better work.

Yuuri blinked, a dusting of pink settling on his cheeks at the praise, “Um, thank you.” He scratched his neck sheepishly. “I… I already told you I can’t say no to you, so… when?”

Viktor felt his jaw go slack and eyes widen to saucers in surprise.

“R-really?!”

Yuuri nodded slowly, blush turning to rose red, deep and warm, “Yes. If you really want.”

Perfect, perfect, Yuuri was so _perfect_ Viktor could cry and die of happiness. His grin brightened beyond his own control, and he suddenly felt giddy, elated, oh so indescribably joyous that Yuuri, sweet, wonderful Yuuri, had given in without a hitch. He threw his arms around Yuuri’s neck to thank him profusely while Yuuri chuckled good-naturedly, running a hand through Viktor’s long hair.

“You’re welcome.” He murmured, placing a kiss atop Viktor’s head. “But, when?”

On top of everything else, he asked all the right questions.

“Well,” Viktor cleared his throat, “like I said, I feel a little embarrassed about it… not about you or anything like that, but about myself, the whole… thing, you know?” Yuuri nodded slowly, obviously trying to follow Viktor’s train of thought without getting lost, “So, I thought… maybe Hogsmeade weekends? When people generally are away? I-I mean…!” he dug his fingers into the fabric of Yuuri’s shirt, somehow convinced that Yuuri would apparate away if he didn’t hold on tightly enough, “I love going on dates with you to Hogsmeade, but I really love just going on dates with you anywhere, see? I’m happy anywhere, so long as I’m with you. So i-it doesn’t have to be Hogsmeade, I’m content here, too, spending time with you, but if you wanto go then it’s okay, an-“

His rambling was suddenly cut off by a hand taking hold of his chin and a pair of lips gently, but firmly, pressing against his own. All oxygen was sucked out of him, Yuuri’s simple kiss effectively dazing him enough to end the stream of words.

“I’d gladly trade any Hogsmeade visit away if it meant spending time with you.” Yuuri insisted softly, cupping Viktor’s cheek to ground him. “And if you want to, I’ll tutor you in DADA in the process. If Professor Cialdini has suggested it, and if you really want me to do it, then I have less than no reasons to refuse.”

Emotions of magnitudes far beyond Viktor’s control welled up in his chest, crawling further up and constricting his throat and attempting to escape through his eyes. He quickly pulled Yuuri in for another kiss, feeling a couple of droplets spilling down his cheeks as he did. Through tears of relief and happiness that Yuuri kissed away, Viktor murmured “thank you” over and over again in every language he knew, eternally grateful Yuuri didn’t ask why he was crying.

He really wouldn’t have known what to answer if he had. Perhaps Yuuri knew.

 

**

 

“Professor McGonagall?”

“Mr. Katsuki.” She gestured to the chair in front of her desk, and Yuuri swiftly crossed circular office to have a seat. “Judging by the hour you’re visiting, I assume you have urgent news.”

Yuuri clenched his jaws, nodding, “I do.”

McGonagall placed her quill on the desk, leaning forward.

“Take the short version first, then explain.”

Yuuri swallowed, stomach churning uncomfortably, turning into a heavy knot. He felt nauseous.

“Viktor was targeted. From inside the school.”

 

**

 

“What, exactly, is stopping you from getting the boy?”

“I’m telling you, I don’t know! The Imperius Curse bounced right off him.”

“…impossible. That’s _impossible!_ ”

“It bounced. Right. Off!”

“ _How?!_ ”

“I told you _I don’t know!_ ”

“Fuck it! His father must’ve put some unknown defense spell on him - there’s no known defense for the unforgivable curses. We need a new plan.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”

“Shut up!”

“Well, fuck you, too!”

“Quiet, you brat! His parents’ location is now unknown, but we know where the boy is, and we need to get to him.”

“That’s not going to be easy, especially if his dad has cast an unknown defense spell on him. He’s not going to visit Hogsmeade any longer, he’s not _that_ stupid, and that boyfriend of his never leaves his side.”

“Then we need to get rid of the boyfriend.”

“Well, that won’t be a walk in the fucking park, okay? Yuuri Katsuki is Hogwarts’ ace student; he’s more skilled than half the staff, and the auror office has already reached out their long arms to claw him in the moment he graduates. He’s not going to be easily fooled.”

“What the Merlin hell…! Can this boy choose his company any more inconveniently?!”

“Like I’ve said a thousand times: we need _a_ _new plan!_ ”

“ _I’ll make a new fucking plan when you shut the hell up!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my Merlin, I made it, and the clock hasn't turned to Monday here yet! Woop woop ^.^
> 
> And the plot thickens just a little more O.o
> 
> So many comments unanswered my inbox is overflowing, so tomorrow, when my Monday dance class is cancelled for reasons (accidental double-booking, we yielded, fortunately it was a one-time thing), I'll sit down for real and do a stretch to get through ALL of them. Because you're all awesome and reading them all has my brain in a state of euphoria for a good while afterwards <3
> 
> On a side note... chapter 1-5 of the sequel to Competing for your Attention are written. Unedited, but written. Getting there, too! However, I suddenly had a full-time job alongside my studies on my hands, and I'm still adjusting to that, so it might take a while longer before I get around to start editing the chapters and actually start posting... but soon enough. Fingers crossed ^.^
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	11. Defense Against the Dark (Arts)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor has been attacked and knows nothing about it.  
> Yuuri only wants him to be 110% safe (preferably more).

”Viktor was targeted. From inside the school.”

Professor McGonagall stared at Yuuri, wide-eyes, shock seeping into her aging features as his words sunk in fully. Whatever it was that she had expected to hear, it wasn’t that, Yuuri figured. He couldn’t really blame her, either.

His hands were trembling, balled to fists in his lap.

Slowly, the Headmistress spoke:

“I’m going to summon Professors Cialdini, Feltsman and Baranovskaya immediately, and you’ll tell us all, in your own words, exactly what happened.”

Yuuri felt himself nodding as she pulled out a familiar little piece of parchment from her pocket and quickly scribbled a message in her unfairly neat and elegant handwriting. As she did, he felt the identical scroll, well hidden in the inside pocket of his robes, heat up briefly.

The others would arrive any minute.

“How did it happen?” McGonagall asked as she placed the quill on the desk and rolled up the parchment, fixating him with sharp eyes.

Yuuri clenched his jaws.

“A curse, from behind. Unfortunately, I don’t know what kind of curse it was.”

“And since Mr. Nikiforov isn’t here with you, I’m going to assume he knows nothing about having been targeted with a curse?”

“He didn’t notice, no.”

Green flames flashed in the fireplace, then, and Lilia Baranovskaya strode out, quickly followed by Yakov Feltsman and Celestino Cialdini.

“You’re going to need to sit down for this.” The Headmistress told them before anyone could ask, gesturing to the chairs placed around her desk. As soon as everyone was seated, she turned back to Yuuri. “Take it from the beginning, Mr. Katsuki.”

Yuuri’s nails dug into his palms as he clenched his fists tight, willing his hands to stop shaking. He took a deep breath to clear his mind a little before speaking:

“I… I was escorting Viktor to the Ravenclaw Tower, right before curfew as usual.” He worried his bottom lip briefly. “We took our preferred route through the mostly forgotten corridor on the sixth floor and ascended the stairs from there to the seventh floor, rather than taking the grand staircase. It was then…” he clenched his jaws, “…it was when we turned from the top of the stairs to walk down the corridor that I felt one of the protection spells I’ve placed on Viktor react.”

Yakov looked like a storm-cloud, and Lilia’s lips pressed into a paper-thin line. Celestino leaned forward on his chair, expression focused and bitter.

“He didn’t notice,” Yuuri continued, struggling not to look down into his lap as the tears he was holding back would surely start spilling down his cheeks if he allowed himself to look away, “but I did. I’ve linked the spell to myself, so I felt it. It was definitely a curse, but I don’t know what curse exactly, I couldn’t tell. It had to be very subtle, though, yet powerful. It _felt_ powerful, like getting hit by a block of stone rather than by a pillow.” Feeling the belated shock and anxiety creep along his spine, Yuuri started fidgeting with the fabric of his robes, attempting to at least distract his hands. “I told Viktor I thought I spotted a first- or second-year out of bed, since it was past their curfew by then, so I could head back and check.”

“You brought Viktor with you?” Yakov immediately inquired, his gruff voice hoarser than usual.

Yuuri nodded slowly, “I… I didn’t really have a choice. I couldn’t leave Viktor alone, and if I didn’t check immediately, the culprit would get away… which they did, anyway. We found no one; we looked down the closest corridors and classrooms, also down on the sixth floor, but we didn’t even run into another prefect or a teacher.” He held back a sob, barely keeping his demeanor under control while his feelings were on a rampage inwardly.

“I couldn’t… didn’t want to alarm Viktor,” he finally said, voice cracking slightly under the weight of the situation, “so I escorted him to the entrance of the Ravenclaw and made sure the door closed behind him before coming here.”

Silence fell heavy and tight over the circular office when Yuuri stopped talking, and he became highly aware of his own heartbeat, a harsh and relentless pounding against his ribcage. He suddenly felt lightheaded and had to bow his head down as reality came crashing down on him with the weight of the world on top of it.

Viktor had been targeted. With a curse. Less than an hour ago.

And hadn’t it been for Yuuri’s spell…

He didn’t notice his shoulders were shaking, didn’t notice the tears dripping down onto his fisted hands before Professor Cialdini was beside him, steady hands on his shaking shoulders, grounding him.

“Yuuri,” he spoke, voice gentle and laced with concern, “what had you hoped to do? If you had found the culprit?”

Yuuri sniffled, drawing a shaky breath, “Disarmed… neutralized… sent for help. Prior Incantatem. Viktor is well protected, I swear!” he added, a wave of panic rushing from his gut, bile rising in his throat, “I swear…!”

“He’s obviously well protected if he didn’t even notice a curse hitting him.” Yakov spoke, voice gruff and features noticeably paler than usual. “He’s safe for now, and that’s all we can ask.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that someone inside the school tried to land a curse on him.” Lilia reminded her ex-husband, barely concealed worry woven into every word. “Mr. Katsuki’s protection spell saved him this time, but there will surely be a next time.” She looked at Yuuri. “The culprit surely noticed that you noticed, yes?”

Yuuri nodded, “I’m quite certain. I tried Homenum Revelio, but it gave me a dead end. Whoever it was noticed immediately and fled fast.”

Professor McGonagall regarded him for a long moment, fingertips pressed together, expression tight. There was, however, a softness in her gaze that was highly unusual a sight.

“You did well, Yuuri.” She said, kind and reassuring, Professor Cialdini’s grip on his shoulder tightening in confirmation of her words. “Really well. We will up the security around Mr. Nikiforov, and around yourself. I hope you understand.” Yuuri felt himself nodding in the distance. “Stay close to him at all times you can.”

“Always.”

It sounded like his own voice. Maybe he had replied, he wasn’t entirely sure. He was, however, suddenly very sure that he was holding a small, crystal vial in his hand.

_Huh?_

He looked up at the Headmistress, who apparently was waiting to gain his attention again before speaking:

“If I may ask,” she nodded towards the vial, “may I borrow the memory from you?”

_Oh._

Yuuri forced himself to snap back to reality, “Yes, of course.”

Anything that could help Viktor, he was willing to do without a second thought. He opened the vial and pulled out his wand, placing it to his temple, using all his willpower to concentrate as hard as he could on the still fresh and recent images in his mind of the evening’s events. Exhaling slowly, he pulled the silvery strands of memory from his head and placed them in the vial, sealing it and handing it over to the Headmistress.

“How long do I have to keep this up?”

It came out as a shaky whisper.

_Let me tell him. Please, make this stop and let me tell him…!_

But no. When he left the office minutes later, escorted to the Gryffindor Tower by Professor Cialdini, he was fuming inwardly. Anger, fear and despair were sinking their blades into his heart, those wholly unsatisfying words ringing in his head:

_A little longer_.

 

“At least, we can rule out the Unforgivable Curses, can’t we?” Lilia stated a little later as she exited Yuuri’s memory together with Yakov, Minerva and Celestino. “There’s no defense spell strong enough to repel them…”

Celestino’s expression made her pause.

“But that noise…” the DADA-professor said slowly, brows furrowed in confusion and thought, “…it was barely there, and Viktor probably didn’t hear it or think about it… Yuuri obviously didn’t, since he didn’t mention it, but he clearly registered it, somehow. It was a barely-there noise, more of a… suggestion of a light wind. Right before Yuuri reacted to the curse hitting Viktor.”

“Then, what curse behaves like that?” Yakov inquired, arms crossed, seeing his long-time student getting hit by a curse obviously making him more on edge than he was willing to show, “You’re an auror, Celestino; you obviously recognized it.”

“That’s just it.” Celestino replied, looking conflicted. “I would recognize it anywhere, I’ve seen it many times, I’ve been trained to resist it, but… it _can’t be_.”

“I recognized it, too.” Minerva backed him up, still staring intently at the swirling, shimmering memories in the pensieve. “But like Celestino said… and like Lilia also said… it’s impossible. It really is impossible.”

“But you _both_ recognized it.” Lilia breathed, expression tight and tense. “So what was it?”

 Minerva and Celestino exchanged a glance. It was the DADA-teacher who exhaled slowly before speaking up:

“The only curse I know that behaves like that…” he looked up at Lilia, “…is the Imperius Curse.”

A stunned silence of complete and utter shock settled over them as Yakov and Lilia allowed his words, and their implications, sink in.

“Are you saying,” Yakov croaked, voice hoarse, barely finding his tongue, “that Katsuki has found a way to repel an Unforgivable Curse?”

“Perhaps, and perhaps not.” Minerva said slowly. “What we heard might also have been a curse unknown to us that somehow behaves a lot like the Imperius Curse, but wasn’t. And knowing Mr. Katsuki,” the corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly, but there was no trace of either joy nor amusement in her eyes, “if he had actually found a way to repel an Unforgivable Curse, he probably wouldn’t even realize what he had managed to do. If he _did_ know what he had done, he would have told Celestino about it,” she glanced at the DADA-teacher, “and judging by the look on Professor Cialdini’s face, I’d take a guess and say he hasn’t.”

Lilia shook her head, “Whatever it is he has done, it’s obviously sufficient in keeping Viktor safe.”

“Indeed.” Minerva agreed. “I’m writing to Mr. Potter right away, and to Mrs. Granger. We need to amplify the security here immediately.”

 

**

 

“So,” Chris grinned, flopping down on Viktor’s bed, bouncing on the soft surface, “I take it you’re staying here the entire day, then.”

Viktor blushed pink, but couldn’t fight the excited grin off his face, “I am.”

Chris gave up a low whistle, wiggling his eyebrows, “Has Professor Hot-Pants given any indication as to what he’s about to… _teach_ you?”

Viktor had the pillow in his hand on pure instinct, just as Chris raised his arms due to the same instinct to shield his precious face from the oncoming hit from the cushion. As they had now made it to the later part of November, the poor pillow had gotten its fair share of close-up acquaintance with various of Chris’ body parts (as well as with the walls and the windows of the dorm room, and once, Nate’s ink bottle and the back of Sherwood’s head in one go).

It was all Chris’ fault for teasing, Viktor had decided.

“What?” the Swiss demon spawn blinked innocently up at him, a shit-eating grin on his face as Viktor’s cheeks steadily turned crimson, “He’s going to teach you _something_ , right? Self-preservation? How to fend off unwanted intruders?”

While all of Chris’ suggestions were all right and fine in themselves, it was the _suggestive_ voice and wiggling eyebrows that earned him another smack with the pillow (his face went unharmed once again).

“I hate you.” Viktor declared with a huff, getting off the bed to pull on his weekend robes and tie up his hair. Chris laughed, pushing the pillow off his chest before sitting up.

“How you wound me, darling.” He sighed dramatically, placing a hand on his heart. “After I’ve declared my undying love for you and your assets time and time again, this is how you repay me. How can I ever win your favor back, Your Royal Pain in the Ass?”

…fair enough.

Viktor tossed him a small money-pouch, which the Chaser caught easily, eyes twinkling knowingly. Viktor shook his head, but smiled.

“Pick up a few things for me in Hogsmeade, and I’ll think about it.” he promised.

 

Chris, Louis, and almost everyone else from the third year and up headed to Hogsmeade after lunch, but Viktor and Yuuri weren’t among almost everyone.

“I take it you found a space?” Viktor half-asked as they ascended the grand staircase upwards in the castle, hand in hand.

Was it just him, or was Yuuri’s grip just a little tighter than usual? Maybe? Or was it wishful thinking on his part?

Yuuri hummed, “Professor Cialdini showed me what he thought was the best space. We won’t be disturbed there.”

(Actually, it was Headmistress McGonagall that had suggested it and showed it to him _and_ Cialdini, but it was probably better Viktor didn’t know about that tiny bit of fact. _A little longer_ was still singing tauntingly in Yuuri’s head, and he severely tried to ignore it.)

Viktor, all too eager to get going, allowed himself to be led by Yuuri’s warm and steady hand to the seventh floor. Instead of heading towards either the Gryffindor or the Ravenclaw Towers, Yuuri headed directly into the leftmost corridor from the staircase, which was completely empty. At least seemingly so.

The Gryffindor pulled out his was and wordlessly cast a spell Viktor vaguely recognized as some kind of Revelio-charm, and it suddenly occurred to him that Yuuri was making sure no one else was in the corridor or anywhere close to it but them.

“Defense Against the Dark Arts, lesson one,” Yuuri spoke up as he placed his wand back into the inner pocket of his robes, turning to Viktor with a smug grin on his face, “always make sure no one is following you when you don’t want to be followed.”

(Yuuri congratulated himself for the cover-up.)

_Oh,_ Viktor thought, lighting up, _that’s what it was!_

He grinned at Yuuri, “Got it! That was Homenum Revelio, then?”

“Yes.” Yuuri confirmed with a nod and a soft smile that Viktor’s heart really had no defense against at all. “Though, when casting it in a place like Hogwarts, you need to really focus on how large an area it should apply to. I mean, right now, I’m not really interested in whether or not Flitwick is in his study in the following corridor, or if there are still people down in the Great Hall. I really only want to know if someone is close enough to hear or see us.”

Viktor stilled, awe filling up his chest as he turned to stare at Yuuri, feeling his eyes grow wide and jaw slacken.

“You… you could tell, from here, if there were people still in the Great Hall? Using Homenum Revelio?”

The moment the deepest and prettiest rosy blush Viktor had ever seen settled on Yuuri’s cheeks he knew he was the luckiest wizard in the world, even if his heart skipped two beats and his lungs had stopped functioning. He had never seen Yuuri blush like that, his demeanor downright _shy_ as he smiled humbly.

“Yes.”

The reply was barely audible, barely even a whisper.

…amazing. _Amazing!_

Filled with a sudden urge to kiss him silly, Viktor threw his arms around Yuuri’s neck and did just that, happy to discover Yuuri’s surprised gasp gained him immediate access to his mouth. He still tasted of the pancakes they had had for dessert.

“Hey,” Yuuri gently cut Viktor’s onslaught of affection short, pecking his nose to gain his attention and catch him off guard, “just a second, okay? This way.”

Viktor made a noise of complaint, but followed anyway.

No wonder the auror office was impatiently waiting for Yuuri to graduate. Professor Cialdini had proudly informed every class in the whole castle about that tiny piece of fact by approximately the end of the second week of teaching in September, and he would gladly do it again every time someone happened to mention Yuuri’s name during a DADA-lesson.

Viktor might have been more proud about that than he would ever dare admit to Yuuri himself.

“Here.” Yuuri suddenly stopped. Viktor blinked, snapping out of his thoughts to stare at…

…a blank wall?

“Huh?” he uttered, feeling a bit dumbfounded, turning around looking for… _something_. Which didn’t include a silly tapestry of a silly wizard attempting to teach a bunch of silly trolls the art of terrible ballet. Which was what he found.

“What do you mean here?” he asked instead, turning back to Yuuri, “Here, like, here in the corridor?”

“No, not in the corridor.” Yuuri soothed, placing a kiss on his cheek and giving his hand a squeeze before letting go. “Give me a second.”

The look of enormous concentration on his face had Viktor held in silence. In fact, he was almost afraid to breathe or accidentally shift his footing, as if any tiny little noise at all would be able to shatter Yuuri’s intense focus like fragile glass. The Gryffindor walked back and forth in front of the blank wall once, twice, three times, before…

Viktor was certain he could feel his jaw hit the floor. A grin spread on Yuuri’s lips.

“In here.” He said helpfully, opening the newly materialized door for Viktor like the picture-perfect gentleman he was. “It should be just what we need.”

Well, _that_ was the understatement of the century, Viktor thought as he stepped inside, taking in the wondrous room that _wasn’t there_ moments ago. The space was vast and more than enough for two (or perhaps ten) people to train in, the walls covered in shelves filled to the brim with books on what appeared to be defense magic, open cabinets filled with pillows and something that looked like wooden targets peeking out, crates stacked all the way to the high ceiling… maybe they could be used as obstacles…

He turned around to gape at Yuuri, amazed beyond his wildest imagination, finding his boyfriend right beside him, having shut the door and the rest of the world outside.

“What is this place?” he breathed, awestruck.

Yuuri smiled, looking around the room in turn, seemingly pleased with the interior and the furnishing.

“Professor Cialdini called it the Room of Requirement. Apparently, it turns into any kind of room and fills itself up with everything you need, but you really need to concentrate on what exactly it is you’re in need of when summoning it. I’ve tried to remember everything, so-, oh!” he reached for his satchel to pull out a brown paper bag from it and tapped it with his wand, returning it to normal size, “Of course, that doesn’t apply to food, you know, a Principal Exception to Gamp’s law and all that? So I brought some from the kitchen earlier today.”

Viktor’s heart was about to _burst_.

_Oh, Yuuri…!_

As soon as the paper bag was out of Yuuri’s hand, Viktor saw his chance at actually kissing him silly. He showered him with affection, clinging to him like an octopus, somehow trying to tell him that he was perfect and too much (in a good way) and everything Viktor had ever wanted in his life ever.

It must have worked, because Yuuri kissed him back, arms tight and secure around Viktor’s waist. As always, Yuuri also summoned the resolve to pull back, gently, pressing a soothing kiss to Viktor’s temple as an apology, Viktor might have felt his heart swell to never before seen proportions, causing Emotions to spill from his eyes and get stuck in his lashes. And probably soaking Yuuri’s shoulder.

_Thank you._

_I love you._

Yuuri didn’t ask, thankfully, simply held him close until Viktor’s breathing evened out, the momentary cloud in his head clearing up. He gave Yuuri a squeeze to show him he was done with Emotions, and could feel the soft smile in the crook of his neck as he did.

“Shall we?” Yuuri murmured, stroking Viktor’s back soothingly. Viktor nodded decisively into his shoulder before leaning back enough to steal one more kiss, smiling through happy, silvery droplets.

“Let’s.”

 

That was how, about half an hour later, Viktor found himself in the middle of a duel with Yuuri Katsuki.

Or, more accurately, that was how Viktor found himself shouting Protego and bloody murder from the floor while Yuuri Katsuki relentlessly sent spell after spell his way, and though they were all harmless, as Yuuri wasn’t going to actually risk anything, Viktor _really_ didn’t want to get hit by a Rictusempra.

Which was definitely flying in his direction _again_.

“ _Protego!_ ” he shouted, because he had momentarily forgotten how nonverbal spells worked, rolling over as the tickling charm hit the invisible wall he had conjured. He scrambled to his feet only to be forced to jump to the side as another spell shot past, “ _Expelliarmus!_ ”

“Nonverbally, Viktor!” Yuuri encouraged, easily parrying Viktor’s attempt at disarming him, “Your nonverbal spells are strong enough for this, don’t give me any warning. Come on!”

Viktor ducked as another tickling charm flew past, trying his hardest to concentrate, even when something that looked suspiciously like Tarantallegra flied out of Yuuri’s wand.

_Protego!_

The invisible wall was only a little weaker than when he shouted the spell aloud, but it was sufficient in turning Yuuri’s spell away. Maybe it was worth another try…?

_Expelliarmus!_

Yuuri, however, was too quick, and the disarming charm bounced right o-

…no, it didn’t.

Suddenly realizing his terrible mistake, Viktor fruitlessly grabbed after his own wand as it was ripped out of his grasp and flew straight into Yuuri’s waiting palm. The disarming charm hadn’t bounced off but _dissolved_ due to whatever protection spell Yuuri had used, and the Gryffindor had used the charm himself to make it look like Viktor’s was bouncing back and lull him into a false sense of security that he wouldn’t be able to disarm himself.

Clever. Even Merlin couldn’t have been that clever.

“That’s almost twenty minutes.” Yuuri smiled, looking pleased for some reason as he walked up to Viktor to hand him his wand and a bottle of water. “In a real duel, that could have given you time to hide or get away.”

“But in a real duel, I wouldn’t have been attacked by tickling charms.” Viktor pointed out, his skin still tingling from where Yuuri had been able to hit him in the very beginning, and he had had to use every ounce of willpower he possessed to be able to cast Protego and Finite on himself so the test duel wouldn’t have been cut short.

“Well, it’s not as if I’m ever going to cast any actual, terrible dark magic on you, and I really don’t know how to, either.” Yuuri replied, looking slightly terrified at the thought. “I can switch to Stupefy, if you want to, and I can use the full body-binding curse, such things… if you like. I mean, they’re more unpleasant and you’re going to need a longer recovery time if you get hit, but they’re not harmful for real if we cushion the floor and such.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” Viktor told him immediately, no hesitation in his mind. “I need to know how well I can repel those, too, and I might be more motivated if you use stronger spells than Rictusempra.” He tilted his head curiously. “What do you have in mind?”

Yuuri worried his bottom lip briefly, humming.

“You’re a strong wizard, and you’re skilled in magic. I… I might be able to help you enhance the power of the defense spells you already know, and maybe teach you a few new ones, too. Perhaps.” He gave Viktor an uncertain look. “How… how does that sound?”

“Perfect.” Viktor confirmed, beaming, leaning in to kiss the silly auror-to-be who seemed to think he wasn’t good enough to teach Viktor anything and everything. “Actually, I have a request.”

Yuuri tilted his head in turn, blinking, “Oh?”

“The Protego-based charms.” Viktor revealed, barely able to resist the temptation of licking the water off Yuuri’s lips. He was going to focus, damnit! “My Protego Horribilis is… well, horrible.”

 

Yuuri would have begged to differ.

Viktor’s Protego Horribilis wasn’t horrible at all, albeit it had room for improvement. Still, he performed it much better than most of Yuuri’s own classmates.

In fact, the same appeared to apply to most of Viktor’s defense spells, or at least to those they took the time to take a closer look at during the afternoon. While Viktor nonverbally performed Reducto on a crate with just as much force as Yuuri had witnessed Professor Flitwick use verbally during a demonstration, the same couldn’t be said for his Protego Horribilis, which Yuuri discovered didn’t manage to hold back the full body-binding curse if Viktor performed it nonverbally. Verbally, though, it held fine.

…against Petrificus Totalus.

“It won’t hold an Expulso or a Confringo, but it’s definitely sufficient against jinxes and hexes and, apparently, minor curses.” Yuuri noted, brows furrowed in thought. “Then again, Protego Horribilis is fueled by the will to live and survive. If you were in actual, immediate life-threatening danger, I think you could fend off curses like Expulso.”

“…but not Confringo.” Viktor concluded, worrying his bottom lip.

Yuuri shrugged, “That might depend on the caster, to be honest, but no, it might not hold.”

“Would a Protego Maxima? From me, I mean?”

“Most likely.” Yuuri paused. “Actually, it’s highly unlikely it wouldn’t hold, but it takes a longer time to cast and drains more energy; it’s more of a pre-emptive protection spell, as you know, something you can use when you’re anticipating to be attacked a longer time beforehand than ten seconds. Protego Horribilis can be used in the same manner; if you take time setting it up, it will hold better, but in a fast-paced duel…” he smiled sadly, “…there isn’t really time for that.”

Viktor hummed in agreement, burying his face into the crook of Yuuri’s neck, a clear sign that he was getting tired as his octopus-grip made a comeback. Yuuri didn’t fight the smile stretching onto his lips, pulling Viktor closer and into his lap from where he was perched on the table.

“Bath before dinner?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

The adorable puffskein in his arms made a contented noise of approval, then mumbled something incomprehensible into the fabric of Yuuri’s robes. Yuuri blinked.

“Pardon?”

Viktor lifted his head up, eyes shining with something that Yuuri recognized as barely restrained excitement.

“You said this room turns into whatever you need, right?”

_Blink, blink. Huh?_

Yuuri nodded dumbly, “S-so I’ve been told, yes. It seems to work.”

The grin on Viktor’s face was worth mountains of gold and seas of silver, and it still wouldn’t be enough. He looked like he had discovered the greatest and most precious treasure the universe had to offer, with his name written all over it bright and early on Christmas morning.

His birthday, Yuuri reminded himself.

“Then,” Viktor spoke, voice dropping an octave as he moved to straddle Yuuri on the table, kissing him slowly, only pulling back enough to speak against the pair of surprised, slightly parted lips, “let’s stay here tonight?”

Yuuri waved goodbye to Common Sense and Coherent Thoughts as they packed their bags and flew out the window, leaving him with nothing but an absolute need to get out of the room, run three times in front of the wall, and get in again as fast as possible to throw Viktor down on the largest and softest bed he could dream up.

It wasn’t any dark wizard that was going to kill Yuuri, oh no. Viktor Nikiforov was taking care of that just fine.

Though, Yuuri thought as he let Viktor push him down on the table, if that was what dying felt like, he’d gladly turn into a multiple-ghost of some kind, just to experience it over and over again.

 

**

 

_Dear mama, dear papa,_

_I hope you and Makkachin are all well, despite everything. I’m fine, too, I promise, and so are my friends. I’m touched that you’re worried about Yuuri and Chris, but pre-winter break-exams are keeping us all well occupied for now, so Yuuri wants to spend time at the castle with me rather than going to the village, and Chris wasn’t really sure if he’s going to visit Hogsmeade any longer before January. It’s a lot we have to take in and study, but I think I’ll do fine. I feel confident I can pass the tests._

_The stuff the seventh years are cramming is ridiculous, by the way. Or then it’s just Yuuri and Seung-Gil’s ambitious streaks showing._

_Speaking of studying, we’ve started the DADA-sessions with Yuuri, and papa, he’s a genius! I mean, I knew he was a genius, but he just keeps surprising me. He’s well acquainted with your work and research, you know, and that combined with his knowledge on Japanese wand-wielding techniques and his skill… it’s amazing. There’s barely any difference in strength between his verbal and nonverbal spells, and he doesn’t really use the former at all, just like you._

_I feel safe with him._

_I want to tell him about Inferno. I want him to know why I can’t visit Hogsmeade, and why I’m insistent on him teaching me. Can I do that? Do I need permission from, like, the auror office or something? I just really, really want to tell him!_

_I also think I should tell Chris, just in case. I don’t want him to get hurt, and I’m honestly worried about him going to Hogsmeade. What if Inferno knows were best friends?_

_Please, at least let me tell Yuuri. And Chris. Please! I’ll beg on my knees before anyone I need to, but please let me tell them. I can’t stand keeping all of this from them._

_Stay safe, and send all my love and cuddles to Makka!_

_Viktor_

 

**

 

He nuzzled closer to Yuuri beneath the covers of their very own, very large, four-poster bed in the Room of Requirement, thinking about the letter he had sent to his parents earlier the same day. Yuuri was fast asleep, chest rising and falling slowly and steadily, his heartbeat a soft thumping, soothing rhythm. Viktor pressed his ear to the toned, bare chest to let it calm him.

Yuuri should know, he really should. He should know about Inferno. He should know why Viktor couldn’t go to Hogsmeade, and why he needed the DADA-sessions, why he needed his help so, so badly.

Why he insisted on sleeping in the Room of Requirement more often than not when winter break was drawing closer by the day. When they still had a few days of exams and classes left.

Because without Yuuri, Viktor could hardly sleep.

Without Yuuri within an arm’s length, Viktor felt vulnerable.

It had been like that for some time already, and Viktor couldn’t put his finger on exactly when the switch had been flipped. While he had felt safe and content with Yuuri before, somewhere along the line, it had gotten to a point where he felt downright exposed, even threatened, if Yuuri wasn’t by his side.

So far, it hadn’t had too much of an impact on his performance in class, but Viktor did recognize he had been unusually unfocused during Yakov’s test.

And it was as if Yuuri had noticed it, too, somehow, because he allowed Viktor to basically spend every waking (and sleeping) moment they weren’t in class or at Quidditch practice with him without complaining or protesting once. He didn’t question it when Viktor jumped at him right outside the classroom door, or when he was overcome with a wave of fear and panic and clung to Yuuri for dear life without an explanation. The Gryffindor never told him to lay off or let go, but instead asked what was wrong, even if Viktor had no answer. Yuuri would just let it slide and pull him closer, no further questions asked.

Viktor fell more and more in love with Yuuri’s every intake and exhale of breath, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. There was nothing he would _want_ to do to stop it.

Yuuri stirred slightly, probably sensing Viktor was still awake, and his grip tightened around him as he pulled Viktor closer.

“Can’t sleep?” he inquired, voice a little hoarse with fatigue.

Viktor buried his face into Yuuri’s chest, pressing closer, “Just not tired enough yet.”

Yuuri hummed, one hand finding Viktor’s neck and the other sliding down his back and below.

“That a challenge?”

An excited shudder ran up Viktor’s spine as Yuuri, suddenly not at all asleep, pushed him down onto the soft mattress and moved on top of him, trapping him there. Worries and fears dissolved into nothing with every touch and every kiss, Inferno disappearing into the realms of insignificance as Yuuri’s hands were in all the right places and his mouth just so infuriatingly close to where Viktor wanted it to be, so right and not close enough.

He slept like a log that night.

 

**

 

Yuuri bid Viktor goodnight by the entrance to the Ravenclaw Tower right before curfew, relishing in the sensation of getting his senses kissed away before his oh so heart-meltingly happy boyfriend easily answered the riddle posed by the bronze knocker (“The more you take, the more you leave behind.” “I’ve left a lot of footsteps behind.” “And you’ll leave many more still as you step inside, young man.”) and disappeared into the common room.

Adjusting his robes a little, Yuuri glances at his watch and decided to just start his hour-past-curfew-rounds immediately. Yuuko would be taking care of the dungeons and lower levels as usual, so they would meet around the third floor as usual. Probably.

He methodically worked (walked) his way through the castle, starting from the seventh floor and the assigned towers (the owlery among them). A pair of fourth-year Ravenclaws were hiding behind a statue in the corridor leading to the Room of Requirement, and Yuuri escorted them to the bronze knocker with a light scolding and a few deducted points, even when they tried to argue that he “didn’t really want to deduct points from Viktor, right?”

“It’s not him I’m deducting points from.” Yuuri had replied, making sure they made it past the knocker before resuming his rounds.

It had been _ages_ since Viktor was attacked, and he _still_ hadn’t gotten clearance from the Headmistress nor anyone else to tell Viktor about the situation. That he knew about Inferno, that he was responsible for all the protection spells that made jinxes, hexes and curses bounce right off Viktor in DADA-class (Yuuri only made exceptions for their own sessions, just so Viktor would actually acquire knowledge of his own skill and how he could improve). Yuuri was growing really very tired of keeping everything a secret, and even though part of him was definitely afraid of how Viktor would react to the revelation, a bigger part of him was even more afraid of how Viktor would react if he found out in some other way. Yuuri would much rather tell him himself.

More than anything, he wanted Viktor to know that he knew so he could feel free to talk about it all. There were days when Yuuri could almost physically see and feel the weight of the fear crushing him, when all Viktor wanted to do was to stay close and seek comfort in Yuuri’s touch, unable to share his worries and thoughts verbally, keeping it all in while it was killing him inside.

It was killing Yuuri inside, too, seeing him like that.

Maybe he could drop hints and let Viktor just figure it all out? Viktor was sharp, more than smart enough to notice such things, and would surely be able to put two and two together. That way, he wouldn’t have to directly tell Viktor, but Viktor would figure it out, and-

His mind went blank.

Yuuri stilled, his mind instinctively fighting back at the cloud invading his head. It wasn’t supposed to be there, it was wrong, he needed to get it out.

Luckily, all those hours and days and weeks spent fearing for his life on a broomstick high above the raging waters surrounding Mahoutokoro had provided him with extraordinary focus, and all those months and years spent training with Minako had made him headstrong, boosting his willpower and determination.

And most importantly, all that time he had spent learning to resist Phichit’s extraordinary legilimancy-abilities had made his mind resistant to any unwanted intruding, because as soon as he realized what he had been hit with, he was able to clear the fog from his mind.

He had been subjected to the Imperius Curse. All the symptoms pointed to that.

Which meant that somewhere in his close proximity was a wizard or witch strong enough to cast an Unforgivable Curse.

Yuuri had his wand out and a strong Protego Horribilis up before the next curse hit, bouncing right off the invisible shield. Another immediately came flying from _somewhere_ , something much more powerful than the previous one, and Yuuri jumped to the side and rolled around, just in case, but found his shield reflecting that one off, too.

_Homenum Revelio!_

An undignified yelp from a nearby alcove was heard and Yuuri whipped towards the sound, his Homenum Revelio powerful enough to pull out a figure dressed in black from their hiding place.

The figure raised their wand, and Yuuri strengthened the Protego Horribilis as quickly as he could.

Obviously, this hadn’t been the figure’s plan, and Yuuri had taken them by surprise. They had expected him to either surrender to the Imperius Curse, or then go down with some other, something that hadn’t been Avada Kedavra, as there hadn’t been a flash of green light, but something powerful nevertheless. The figure was a skilled dueler, Yuuri recognized, but they hadn’t been expecting to duel him right there and then, one on one, face to face.

He was determined not to give them the chance or the time to cast a deadly curse, keeping them occupied with an array of spells of his own. Unfortunately, they repelled all his attempts at disarming and neutralizing them, and by the way they were moving, Yuuri could tell they were growing anxious.

It would only be a matter of time before someone found them.

It only then occurred to Yuuri what he had to do.

_Expecto Patronum! Celestino Cialdini!_

His little toy poodle shot out of his wand and ran straight through the wall to carry out the task Yuuri had given it. The stunt cost him, however, as the figure managed to cast three spells in rapid succession, and Yuuri threw himself to the ground to escape the last one that managed to get past his weakening shield.

That was when the figure took off running.

Cursing, Yuuri shot to his feet and sprinted after them, throwing Stupefies, Impedimentas, anything and everything he could think of to stop or slow down their movements. His Carpe Retractum almost hit the mark, but the figure jumped behind a statue at the last second and avoided the rope. Then, it stretched its wand out from behind the shelter.

“ _Crucio!_ ”

Yuuri’s breath hitched and he instinctively jumped to the side, the curse hitting the suit of armor he used for cover, shattering the solid steel to pieces. Before he could try another Stupefy, the figure had used Fumos, leaving behind a cloud of thick, grey smoke as they undoubtedly scrammed.

He still got to his feet, casting Homenum Revelio, blindly, turning a corner…

“Yuuri!”

Professor Cialdini came running towards him, taking in his demeanor with a fear-stricken expression.

“Yuuri, you’re bleeding.” He noted, hand already on Yuuri’s temple, and, oh, yes, that was definitely blood on his fingers.

“They got away.” Yuuri heard himself saying, staring at his DADA-teacher with panic gripping his heart. “They got away again.”

“Hospital Wing, now.” Celestino decided, grabbing his shoulder and steering him towards the infirmary. “We’ll talk there.”

 

Twenty minutes later, Yuuri’s bleeding temple was taken care of, and the Headmistress had joined professor Cialdini by his bedside. She looked unusually pale, lips only an arrow-straight, tight line, worry filling her sharp gaze.

“Were you able to identify the voice?” she asked quietly after Yuuri finished telling them what happened.

He slowly shook his head, then stopped as he felt it throb uncomfortably.

“No, but…”

He couldn’t speak.

Professor Cialdini sat down, placing a hand on his shoulder to ground him. Yuuri hadn’t even realized his hands were shaking, the Anti-Anxiety Elixir not strong enough to deal with the shock of having been attacked directly.

Of having been subjected to an Unforgivable Curse, and almost hit by another within the span of not ten minutes.

“But?” Cialdini encouraged. Yuuri drew a shaky breath.

“…I couldn’t identify it, but… I’ve heard it before.” He looked up at the Headmistress. “I’m sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaving you another cliffhanger, and I'm still not sorry.
> 
> I am however sorry that you had to wait an extra day, but Final Fantasy IX HD Remake happened and my weekend was suddenly over (oops?), but I love that game so much and I really thought I had left time to Sunday evening to edit this chapter... well, miscalculation happened, and I spent way too much time in Chocobo Forest. And too much time fighting Beatrix over and over again for both the Chain Plate and the Mythril Sword. Damnit! But I got them.
> 
> I'll try not to get too carried away next Sunday! :'D Much love and many hugs to you all <3


	12. Stammi Vicino

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of the attack on Yuuri, many things are revealed. Too many things to process all at once.  
> And what does Stammi Vicino actually mean?

Viktor was scrambling away from a very persistent Inferno in his world of nightmares when someone grabbed his arm and dragged him away from the figure. As it had never happened before, he panicked, trying to turn around to see who had taken hold of his hand, reaching blindly for his wand.

He woke up to find he couldn’t speak. He also found Yakov looking down at him with concern, wand in one hand the other around Viktor’s arm. Frowning, Viktor tried asking what was going on, only to find no words came out of his mouth. Yakov released his arm, pointing between his wand and Viktor’s mouth, then placing a finger to his lips in a hushing gesture.

Oh. Yakov had silenced him. Probably not to wake the others.

Without a word, Yakov handed Viktor his silky, magenta-colored morning gown and motioned for him to get up. Viktor complied, heart thumping hard in his chest at the troubled expression on his mentor’s face, grabbed his wand from beneath the pillow before following Yakov down to the Ravenclaw common room, where Professor Cialdini was waiting for them. Yakov then swiftly heaved the Silencio Charm, after making sure Viktor was going to stay quiet, and they all exited the Ravenclaw Tower, Yakov’s hand resting on his shoulder.

Viktor’s heart felt heavier with each step they took, feet turning to lead as he tried keeping up with the two professors. Both had their wands in hand and where constantly looking around them, Cialdini casting the occasional Homenum Revelio as they went. Whatever it was all about and wherever they were headed (Viktor had a hunch), the news couldn’t be good.

They walked in tense silence straight to the griffin statue that guarded the staircase to the Headmistress’ office, and only then did Cialdini speak, to utter the password (“Woollongong shimmy”).  It wasn’t until they were halfway up the rising staircase that Viktor dared ask:

“What’s going on?”

It was only then that he noticed he was trembling, that his hands were shaking, his heart pounding harshly against his ribcage. Yakov squeezed his shoulder.

“Your parents will be here any second, if they haven’t already arrived.” He revealed, frowning. “All will be explained in just a moment, Vitya, I promise.”

“They’re probably here already.” Professor Cialdini confirmed Yakov’s statement. “The message was quick, and Mr. Potter acted at lightning speed as usual.”

Viktor wanted to pose another question, or a million of them, wanted explanations instantly, but it all came out as a shaky exhale, words failing to form. Before he had the time to make his tongue untangle itself, they reached the door at the top of the staircase, and Cialdini opened it without further ado, stepping inside. Yakov ushered Viktor in after him.

“Vitya!”

_Huh?_

He barely had time to blink and register that the female voice was very, very familiar before a whirl of unusually unruly golden hair enveloped him. Realizing that it indeed was his mother embracing him, Viktor’s arms worked on their own accord to hug her right back. Tears of overwhelming relief and confusion streamed down his cheeks far beyond his control, and somewhere in the distance, he heard sobs. He only later concluded them to be his own.

Another pair of arms soon encircled both himself and his mother, and judging by the familiarity, they could only ever belong to Ilia Nikiforov. And judging by the whimpers and the incessant bumping against his leg…

“Makka!” Viktor breathed in a gasp, sinking to his knees to pull his darling poodle into his arms, allowing all the slobbery kisses she had to offer, burying his fingers and face into her soft, curly hazel fur, “Makkachin…”

Behind the veil of emotions and confusion, he heard someone softly clear their throat.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, but we really should get on with this; I need to get back to the Ministry to sort all of it out…” the female voice that was trailing off was humble and a little hesitant, and just ticked all the right boxes for Ludmila Nikiforova to reply:

“No, please, don’t be sorry, Mrs. Granger. I really want to know what has passed; why we were brought here so urgently.”

“Vitya.” Viktor’s father gently coaxed him, offering a tissue to dry his tears and blow his nose, which Viktor gladly accepted before standing up on slightly wobbly legs to finally take in his surroundings.

His parents were there, just like Yakov and Professor Cialdini had said, dressed in their morning gowns, hair untied, their expressions worried and tense. Makkachin was there, sitting dutifully beside Viktor, obviously happy to see her master and smart enough to know that something serious was going on. Yakov and Professor Cialdini were there, as were the Headmistress, Professor Okukawa and Lilia. Mr. Potter was standing beside McGonagall’s desk, and to his right stood a young woman with unruly brown hair that could only be Hermione Granger, one of the greatest witches of her age and on her way to become the youngest ever Minister for Magic in the history of Great Britain, if one were to believe _The Daily Prophet_.

But it was the figure standing between Okukawa and Cialdini that Viktor’s eyes were drawn to like magnets.

“Yuuri?” he gasped, immediately noticing the patch on his left temple, not realizing his legs were moving until he suddenly stood right in front of his boyfriend, reaching up to cup his cheek to have a closer look at the patch, cold fingers gripping his heart, “You’re hurt; what happened?”

He hadn’t noticed he’d started crying again until Yuuri wiped a tear away from his cheek gently, expression conflicted. He looked like he was trying to resist the urge to kiss Viktor, a worry and sadness in his eyes that suddenly settled heavy on Viktor’s shoulders. It also looked like there were a million things he wanted to say, but held back.

“Please, sit down.” Professor McGonagall told the Nikiforov family, and while Viktor’s parents did, Viktor barely heard her.

“Yuuri,” he tried again, willing Yuuri to say something, do something, anything, “what…?”

A slightly trembling hand found Viktor’s own on Yuuri’s cheek, giving it a squeeze.

“You should sit down.” Yuuri told him quietly, voice cracking slightly. “Please, Viktor.”

Professor Cialdini cleared his throat to gain their attention, “Perhaps you should sit down, too, Yuuri.” He suggested, giving Yuuri a pointed look.

Yuuri blinked, then looked at their entwined hands before nodding slowly, “ _Hai_ , professor.”

A fourth chair was conjured for Yuuri to sit down on, right beside the one reserved for Viktor, who was probably stopping the blood-flow in Yuuri’s hand with his own, gaze constantly flickering to the patch on his temple. Professor Okukawa moved to stand beside Yuuri, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her expression was tight, eyes shooting daggers, but she remained silent.

The Headmistress heaved a deep sigh before breaking the tense silence.

“We owe all of you and explanation.” She revealed, looking more tired and worried than Viktor had ever seen her before. “And we owe both Viktor and Yuuri here an apology. However, we would ask all of you to listen first, to hopefully understand all of this.”

“Care to explain now why my prodigy is injured?” Professor Okukawa inquired, a sheer layer of ice wrapped around her voice. Yuuri looked like he was trying hard not to cringe at her choice of words, but said nothing. “Mrs. Nikiforova generously shared the backstory to all of this while we waited for Yakov and Ciao Ciao to return with young Mr. Nikiforov, but you’ve yet to tell me why Yuuri’s injured.”

Professor Cialdini stepped forward, “Yes. It’s the events of this evening that has brought us all here, so please, listen first.” Okukawa pursed her lips, but didn’t speak further. Cialdini took a deep breath, “Yuuri was doing his nightly rounds this evening when he was attacked. Subjected to the Imperius Curse.”

“What?” Okukawa hissed, her grip on Yuuri’s shoulder visibly tightening.

Viktor, who had wanted to hear any other explanation but the one that was bluntly thrown in his face, gasped, clasping his free hand over his mouth in shock, squeezing Yuuri’s with the other, receiving a more reassuring one in return. His gaze snapped to Yuuri, who looked like he attempted a smile to show he was okay, but it was shaky and not as reassuring as the steady grip. Ludmila had a hand over her mouth as well, eyes wide with worry, and Ilia was leaning forward in his chair. Makkachin whimpered, resting her head on Viktor’s thigh.

Cialdini paused, allowing the words to sink in before he continued:

“Yes, he was subjected to the Imperius Curse, but since he is well trained in resisting mind-intruding magic thanks to Phichit Chulanont, he resisted the curse and fought back. He dueled with the attacker, and that’s how he got the injury; it was made by a curse, we can confirm, and will hence leave a small scar.

“He managed to send me a message using the Patronus Charm, and when I found him, the person that attacked him had managed to escape, and no Homenum Revelio was of any help. I took him to the Hospital Wing, where I summoned Professor McGonagall, who then contacted Mr. Potter, and hence, we’re all gathered here.”

“The attacker,” Ilia spoke up, brows furrowed, “what did they look like?”

Yuuri looked up at him, fidgeting with his robes with his free hand, jaws clenched tightly together.

“Clad all in black, face not visible. It was hard to tell anything else due to all the black fabric, but I’d say they were of average height…” he frowned, “…and when they cast the last curse in my direction, I… thought I recognized the voice. It sounded familiar, but I can’t place it properly. I’m certain I’ve heard it at Hogwarts before, but I can’t figure out who it could have been. I couldn’t even tell the gender.”

“We’ve taken into account that the voice could have been altered to confuse Yuuri.” Cialdini explained, taking over once it was clear Yuuri didn’t know what else to say. “He was attacked for a reason, you see.” He pursed his lips. “He was attacked because only a little while back, someone tried casting a curse on Mr. Nikiforov, and failed their attempt.”

Viktor’s blood ran cold. He felt his eyes widen, felt his jaw slacken, felt himself trembling in his seat. Felt Yuuri’s hand tighten hard around his own.

But…

“…I was attacked?” he whispered, trying to understand, “When? I… I didn’t know…”

“We know you didn’t.” Yakov grunted, frown deep on his wrinkled features. “You should take it from the beginning, Ciao Ciao.”

Cialdini nodded in agreement, “From the beginning it is.” He offered Viktor and his parents a sad smile.

“It all started when Minerva and I met with Mr. Potter, Mrs. Granger, and Mr. Robards to discuss Viktor’s transfer to Hogwarts, the evening before the start of term, to talk through all the safety measures we had taken and that yet had to be put in action. Precautions, such as telling the teachers to keep an eye on Viktor, had already been done, and we agreed to also ask reliable portraited people to help, along with the house-elves and the ghosts. Then, Mr. Potter said to Mrs. Granger, in a side note: ‘We’d never have made it without each other, would we?’” Cialdini sighed. “And immediately, an idea came to mind.” He nodded towards the “idea” in question. “Yuuri.”

_…what?_

Viktor stilled. Yuuri must have felt the change in his demeanor, because he cringed visibly, averting his gaze, looking like he was fighting back tears. Cialdini quickly continued, and Viktor willed himself to listen to every word.

“Yuuri is far above the charts for his age when it comes to wielding magic, and more than anything, defense magic.” Cialdini explained. “We didn’t know what house Viktor would end up in at the time, of course, but I knew, and so did Minerva, that if there was one student we could trust to help us in our quest to keep Viktor safe, it was him.

“So, I suggested we ask Yuuri, and the others agreed – we could always ask. If he were to decline, we would have removed that particular memory and he wouldn’t be able to recall any of it. But when we summoned Yuuri here, in the early hours of the morning on 2nd September, and told him what was going on, what we would ask him to do, he didn’t hesitate to agree immediately.”

“Please,” Yuuri suddenly spoke up, voice fragile, his shattered and vulnerable demeanor making Viktor’s heart ache painfully in his chest, “please, let me… let me do this.”

“Of course.” Cialdini swiftly agreed, and Yuuri clenched his free hand into a tight fist before drawing a deep, shaky breath.

“Okay,” he murmured, worrying his bottom lip intently, “okay…”

Viktor wanted to soothe him, somehow, in any way, but he was too shocked over the revelation that _Yuuri knew_ to even move. He could only listen more intently than he ever had in his life when Yuuri finally turned to look him straight in the eye, determination cutting through the worry and sadness as he finally spoke:

“At the start-of-term banquet,” he began slowly, “I knew… I felt that something was going to be different about my last year at Hogwarts. That it would set itself apart from the other school years, somehow, that something was going to change. Then,” his gaze was careful, cautious, as if he was afraid Viktor would run away if he wasn’t delicate enough, “you walked in.” The corner of his mouth twitched.

“Phichit still teases me about my reaction back then, but I really couldn’t help myself. You were a vision in the candlelight, and I was so certain you weren’t even real, because no one, not even a Veela, could ever look like that. But you were very real, and I wasn’t dreaming, and…” his gaze softened, “I was over the moon when I caught you looking, at _me_ of all people.” He closed his eyes for a moment, seemingly trying to gather confidence he didn’t know where to grab.

Viktor found he had stopped breathing, his grip possibly about to kill Yuuri’s poor hand.

“I didn’t know what came over me then, but I just _knew_.” Yuuri continued. “I’ve never _known_ something so certainly before. So, when I was asked to protect you, keep an eye on you, I didn’t hesitate for a second.” He paused briefly, wetting his dry lips.

“Already the next day, when I passed you in the Entrance Hall, I cast a protection charm on you. Then I strengthened it in dance class…” he offered a small, sheepish smile, “…I might have given you a heart attack, sneaking up on you like that during cool down, but I saw my chance, not only at strengthening the charm, but also to get closer to you. I was drawn in like a moth to a flame, and I really couldn’t have resisted either way. I realized I really had to gather my courage and approach you for real after that.

“Meeting you in the owlery was a coincidence, believe it or not.” Yuuri sighed, a trembling smile on his lips. “I went up there to send a package to my family, and also to use the solitude to think, figure out a way to approach you and make my interest clear, but you… you were there. Right there. And I really, very much wanted to talk to you, get to know you… ask you out. So, I did, completely ignoring the fact that my heart was trying to break through my ribcage in the process.”

Viktor didn’t have much time to process the fact that Yuuri had been _nervous_ before the Gryffindor swiftly continued:

“Then, we grew closer, and…” he swallowed, “…I wanted to tell you. What I had been asked to do, I mean. I always feared that when the truth inevitably came to light, you would think that I… I…” his lower lip trembled as he bit back tears, and Viktor felt a wet streak of salt run down his own cheek, “…that I only wanted to get close to you so I could carry out the task, but that’s not the case. Task or not, I would still have tried to get close to you, I would still have approached you both in dance class and in the owlery, I would still have asked you out – nothing would have, essentially, changed.” Determination once again settled over his features as he steeled his nerves. “I can prove it.”

Viktor’s head was spinning with all the information, with the honesty he was being subjected to, with all the truths running over him like a flood. But Yuuri wanted to prove something, said he could do so, as if…

He shook his head, “Prove it?” he asked, voice quiet, “Y-Yuuri, you don’t…” _have to_.

“But I want to.” Yuuri decided firmly, pulling out his wand. “What shape did my Patronus take in the owlery, when we first talked for real?”

Viktor blinked,  “A piggy.” He easily replied. “A little piglet.”

“Has my Patronus ever taken another form than a piglet before, Minako-sensei?”

Okukawa frowned, shaking her head, “I’ve only ever seen a piglet.”

“Celestino?”

Cialdini smiled gently, “Not before tonight when you summoned me and I saw something else.”

Yuuri nodded decisively, “You did.”

He flicked his wand.

Viktor’s mouth fell open in a silent gasp. His mother made a surprised noise beside him, and he barely registered she wasn’t the only one, but he didn’t register who. He was all too busy taking in the evidence presented right before his eyes.

Yuuri’s ultimate proof. The physical indicator that showed exactly where his happiness lied.

The little toy poodle happily circled Yuuri, then Viktor, where Makkachin briefly tried playing with the silvery, smaller cousin, before it headed towards the window and disappeared through it in a swirl of shimmering mist. Yuuri pocketed his wand slowly.

“It changed at some point between Gryffindor’s first Quidditch match and Ravenclaw’s.” He revealed. “I can’t pinpoint the exact time, but,” a small, small, very soft smile grazed his lips, “there were plenty of happy memories to choose from at that point.”

Viktor closed his still open mouth, looking for words, opened it to speak, failed to find any vocabulary and closed it again. He was feeling so many things all at once, emotions filling him to the brim and threatening to burst him open, suddenly feeling very lost.

And in his attempt to grasp reality, he automatically grasped for Yuuri, climbing into his lap without a second thought, because Yuuri, his brain registered, was _safe_ , and he was keeping Viktor _safe_ , and how dared he…!

Oh. _That’s_ what he was feeling.

“I’m offended,” he announced quietly when he finally managed to pinpoint his own emotions, clinging to a suddenly rigid Yuuri like a lifeline, refusing to budge, and willing Yuuri to just lift his arms already to hug him back, “I’m offended you’d think I’d doubt my feelings for you. And that you’d think I’d doubt yours for me.”

He heard Yuuri’s breath hitch before his arms finally, _finally_ where were they should be; tight and secure around Viktor’s waist. Part of Viktor wanted to be angry Yuuri would dare even think those thoughts, while another part of him… understood. Hadn’t he himself doubted many times? That Yuuri would think Viktor didn’t want to spend time with him when he tried coming up with excuses not to go to Hogsmeade, for example?

The biggest part of him, however, merely wanted to hold on and not let Yuuri go, no matter what. Especially not when he felt the Gryffindor sob quietly into his shoulder, wetting Viktor’s robes. He couldn’t have cared less.

“I’m sorry.” Yuuri murmured through tears. “I’m so sorry I… I thought… I couldn’t say anything…”

“That’s our fault.” Mr. Potter spoke up softly. “Just like we had to make Viktor swear not to tell anyone, we had to make Yuuri swear to keep the information to himself, and not even tell Viktor himself. There were already too many things that could go wrong, that we simply couldn’t allow yet another risk, because if anything had come out, been overheard, anything, it could have been fatal. We hoped that if anything were to happen, Viktor wouldn’t know that Yuuri was protecting him, and thus keep Yuuri out of the picture, but…” he offered a sad, sheepish smile, “…well, it happened anyway.”

“We have reason to believe Yuuri was attacked not because Inferno understood that he had been tasked with protecting Viktor, but because he is the person closest to him.” Mrs. Granger added gravely.

“And by that we come back to the turning point,” Professor McGonagall concluded, “when Viktor was attacked.” She looked over at him, expression solemn. “The reason you didn’t notice or know that you were targeted was because Yuuri’s spell saved you.” Viktor found his ears once again to be on full information-absorption mode, eyes wide as Quaffles.

“Yuuri’s defense spells, plural, are also the main reason no one’s been able to land a hit on you in DADA-class.” Cialdini revealed, offering Viktor a sheepish smile. “Hence, the idea that Yuuri should tutor you was born, because while alone in the Room of Requirement, Yuuri would be able to heave the spells temporarily and let you get a feeling of your own abilities. We weren’t ready to risk heaving them at any other time…” his smiled turned ever so slightly amused, “… not that Yuuri would have told me or anyone else hos to heave them in the first place. I might have managed a Protego Horribilis and the like, but whatever other charm is protecting you is… a different story.”

“It should be.” Yuuri spoke up, voice and gaze sharp as he looked up at the DADA-teacher. “Whatever curse hit Viktor that evening, it pierced the Protego Horribilis, but not my own charm. It was strong.”

Cialdini’s expression softened, “Do you realize yourself just how strong your spell actually is?”

Yuuri blinked, unconsciously stroking Viktor’s back, “Well, I… I know it’s strong, because it repelled something that Protego Horribilis couldn’t. It’s linked to me; I feel whenever it repels something, and I feel the strength of the spell that hits it.”

Cialdini shared a look with the Headmistress, who turned to Yuuri.

“You didn’t recognize the curse that it repelled, no. But we did,” she indicated herself and the DADA-teacher, “and we’re certain; we examined your memory, and you had subconsciously registered it, and probably thought it was something else. Whatever charm you’ve created, and used, might be much more powerful than you think.”

Yuuri’s hand on Viktor’s back had stilled. Viktor could hear his own heartbeat in his ears.

What had Yuuri done?

“What did it repel?” the Gryffindor asked quietly, voice trembling slightly. Viktor was no more ready for the answer than Yuuri appeared to be, but he wanted to know. Wanted to know what Yuuri’s spell had saved him from. Wanted to know the extent of Yuuri’s power.

McGonagall, thankfully, cut the chase.

“It reflected off an Unforgivable Curse.” She revealed. “The Imperius Curse.”

“ _Chto?!_ ” Ilia exclaimed, rising to his feet, gaze snapping between Yuuri and McGonagall in shocked amazement, “How? _How_ is that possible?”

Yuuri, however, was too busy gaping to reply. Viktor couldn’t blame him. His own mind had gone momentarily blank, attempting to process what he had just heard.

He had been targeted with the Imperius Curse. An Unforgivable Curse. The very same one Yuuri had managed to fight and win against only hours earlier. And Yuuri’s spell, _Yuuri’s spell_ , had managed what no other defense charm had succeeded with before – repel it. Repel it so effectively that Viktor hadn’t even known what had passed, until that moment.

The only ones in the room that weren’t gaping were the Headmistress, Cialdini, Yakov and Lilia. They must have known beforehand.

“It…” Yuuri attempted to find words, completely baffled, “…it repelled the… Imperius Curse?”

“It unmistakably did.” McGonagall confirmed. “It bounced right off Viktor.” She shook her head slowly in amazement. “Whatever it is you’ve done, Yuuri, it’s very, very effective.”

“O-oh…” Yuuri’s hands clenched into fists, digging into the fabric of Viktor’s robes, helping to ground him in turn, “…I… I didn’t know… that explains why it felt so powerful…”

“Please, Yuuri,” Ilia spoke up, coming over to kneel in front of them, looking pleadingly up at Yuuri, “how does the spell work? This is extraordinary.”

Yuuri blushed deep crimson, opening and closing his mouth helplessly, looking like an unfortunate merperson on dry land.

“W-well, uh,” he shook his head, trying to figure out how language worked, “it’s… complicated.” He worried his bottom lip, apparently trying to steel his nerves. Then, he took a deep breath.

“When I cast it on Viktor the first few times, I only cast a small part of it, as I had to do it quickly, and I wasn’t entirely sure all of it would work. It was some time before Ravenclaw’s first Quidditch game that I finally cast the charm fully, and apparently, it worked. I cast it in Japanese, but it’s called, uh…” the blush crept up to his ears ad he lifted his gaze to look at Cialdini, “… _Stammi Vicino_.”

Cialdini blinked, “Stay close to me?”

Yuuri nodded quickly, “Y-yes, and that’s the first part of the spell, the one that helps me pinpoint Viktor’s location when needed. The other parts are more complex, um…” he looked like the perfect imitation of a very shy tomato. Had Viktor not been hanging onto his every word, he would have had more time to register how _endearing_ and utterly adorable a blushing Yuuri looked.

Ilia was beyond curious by that point.

“How do they work? I might have a hunch, please continue, Yuuri.”

“Ah,” Yuuri shook his head, burying his face into Viktor’s shoulder, seeking courage to reply, “I-I’m a huge admirer of your work, Mr. Nikif-“

“Ilia.” Viktor’s father insisted.

“…I-Ilia.” Yuuri shakily corrected himself, chancing a glance at the kneeling man in front of him. “Uh, the second part of the spell is the, um, main defense layer. _Non te ne andare, ho paura di perderti_.”

The DADA-teacher’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline as his eyes widened.

“Don’t go away, I’m afraid of losing you.” He quietly translated.

“It’s the aria!” Okukawa suddenly realized, gaping down at Yuuri, “I _thought_ it sounded familiar! No wonder you named it in Italian, even though you cast it in Japanese.”

“Extraordinary!” Ilia gasped, unable to contain himself, grasping Yuuri’s hand where it was resting on Viktor’s thigh, eyes sparkling in awe, “Genius, absolutely genius! You based it on love. The charm increases in power not only by how much you love Viktor, but also by how much Viktor loves you in turn, doesn’t it?”

“P-,” Yuuri halted himself, worrying his bottom lip, “…basically, yes.” He settled for.

Viktor’s head was spinning with information overload, but he couldn’t stop listening. He wanted to hear every single word, wanted to understand what Yuuri had done.

“And the other parts?” Ilia further asked, and Yuuri swallowed, nodding.

“The third part it the… alarm bell, so to speak, the one that helps me identify the nature of distressing situation and determine its urgency, how fast I have to locate Viktor. A-and the fourth part is the inner defense layer, the one that takes over if the outer layer is pierced… a failsafe. The fifth and final part binds the spell together, and myself to Viktor, making sure all the signals from the third part come through.” The corner of his mouth twitched as his cheeks remained stubbornly crimson. “It’s a bit distracting whenever Viktor has DADA, admittedly.”

While Viktor, and probably everyone else, were still trying to process the fact that Yuuri had created a defense spell, based on love, so powerful it had managed to repel an Unforgivable Curse, and the fact that said spell had a whopping five parts, Ilia Nikiforov looked like he was about to propose, grasping Yuuri’s hand tightly in both of his.

“ _Spasibo_ ,” he breathed, “thank you. For loving my son and keeping him safe. For everything.”

Yuuri’s poor cheeks turned Gryffindor scarlet as he struggled to reply, spluttering something that sounded like “anything.” He was then subjected to a Ludmila Nikiforova loving-mother-extraordinaire-hug and a whole three kisses on his burning cheeks.

Viktor’s mind, however, was going a million miles an hour, trying to understand everything he had just heard.

Yuuri had been protecting him from the beginning. He had known about the danger Viktor was in, had been watching over him, had been risking his life for him… and loved him. Did love him. Apparently even more so that Viktor would have dared hope, if the poodle Patronus was any indication. And as if the silvery guardian wasn’t proof enough, then there was always the fact that Yuuri’s defense charm, their shared affection for each other (and Yuuri’s extraordinary skill in magic), had managed to fend off an Unforgivable Curse.

And Yuuri’s charm had _five parts!_ That was about as many as… the Fidelius Charm, wasn’t it?

Which reminded him…

“Is it something… we should know?” he asked quietly, deciding to talk to Yuuri about the charm later when it had sunk in a little better, looking over at Mr. Potter instead, “Where mama and papa’s safe location is, I mean?”

Mr. Potter hummed in acknowledgement, “Good question. It’s not something we could tell you like this, but it would probably be for the best if you and Mr. Katsuki knew.” He turned to Mrs. Granger. “Don’t you think, Hermione?”

Mrs. Granger nodded slowly, “Yes, I agree, but like Harry says, it’s not something we can tell you like this; the place is protected by a Secret Keeper. You know what to do.” The last part was directed to Viktor, who suddenly remembered the letter he had received the evening before Gryffindor’s first Quidditch game. He quickly nodded, seeking Yuuri’s (finally) free hand to entwine it with his own.

“Shouldn’t Viktor’s friend know about all of this?” Ludmila inquired, turning to the Ministry officials, “Chris? He might be in danger; Yuuri’s already been attacked, but was probably determined too formidable an opponent to be worth the bother.”

Mr. Potter gave Mrs. Granger a meaning look, a look that said “we talked about this.” She sighed.

“Yes. Yes, he should know.”

 

While Viktor attempted to collect his thoughts by snuggling closer to Yuuri, Professor Cialdini and Lilia fetched a very confused Chris from the Ravenclaw Tower (and from a good night’s sleep) to the Headmistress’ office. He was dressed in pajamas and his lilac morning gown, fluffy yellow slippers on his feet. Being offered the chair Viktor no longer used and a goblet of pumpkin juice, he managed to focus a little bit better.

He was then subjected to the entire story, all the way from the beginning, everything being gradually revealed. Why the Nikiforov family had moved to England, why Viktor was transferred to Hogwarts, why he couldn’t visit Hogsmeade, why all even slightly harmful spells bounced right off him, why they were all gathered in the Headmistress’ office. And why Yuuri had a patch on his left temple.

When they reached the end of the story, somehow having managed with joint effort from himself, his parents, Yakov, Cialdini, and Mr, Potter, Viktor failed to hold back tears while Yuuri soothingly stroked his back.

“I’m sorry,” he told Chris, whose eyes were comically wide in shock, “I’m sorry I’ve been keeping all this from you, lying in the process.” He managed a shaky smile, sad and teary. “I meant everything else, though.”

For a moment, Chris said nothing, probably allowing all of it to sink in. Then, to Viktor’s amazement, he received a shaky smile back.

“It’s not like you could have told me, right?” he said, voice trembling slightly as he reached for Viktor’s free hand to squeeze it, “I… might need a moment to process all this, but… it… it doesn’t change anything, does it?”

Viktor’s heart, already aching and throbbing in his chest, swelled to impossible sizes as he vigorously shook his head, grasping Chris’ hand more properly.

“No.” He confirmed, sniffling, accepting a tissue he registered came from the tip of his mother’s wand. “It doesn’t. I don’t want it to. B-but you might be in danger, and-“

“And I’d rather be in danger than not be your best friend.” Chris decided shakily, sounding surprised by his own determination, accepting a tissue from Ludmila in turn. “But I…” he looked around helplessly, “…I mean, Yuuri is one thing, but I’m willing to bet my dancing shoes that I couldn’t resist the Imperius Curse like he did. I don’t know what mind-intruding spells feel like, I don’t know how to fight against them. What if I’m subjected to it? I mean, the easy part here is stop going to Hogsmeade, I don’t mind, and I’m sure Louis wouldn’t mind, but inside the school…” he faltered, shoulders slumping slightly in defeat, “…I don’t know how.”

“But Yuuri does.” Ilia immediately said, eyes bright and shining in a way Viktor hadn’t seen them in years, not since he had made his previous major breakthrough in his research. “Yuuri knows how to fend off intrusions to the mind, and if one can fend off something like Legilimency, then surely it would help in withstanding the Imperius Curse, as was the case tonight.”

“Yeah,” Mrs. Granger gave Mr. Potter a look of sad amusement, “that way apparently workd, The other way around, not always.”

Mr. Potter’s cheeks tinted the faintest shade of pink as he muttered something under his breath about “another teacher”, but didn’t elaborate further.

“Yuuri could teach Viktor and Chris.” Cialdini caught on to Ilia’s thinking, nodding slowly. “Perhaps?” he added, giving Yuuri a questioning look, “I know you’re unwilling to heave the charm from Viktor whenever you’re not alone, but-“

“Actually, professor,” Yuuri respectfully cut him off, “I never heave the charm, ever; not even when we’re alone. I only… reverse the outer defense layer temporarily to allow the less harmful spells to get through, the worst of them being the Full-Body Binding Curse. If someone tried casting an actual harmful spell on Viktor even then, the inner layer would repel it. Legilimency isn’t going to work if the Imperius Curse didn’t make it past.”

“And the inner layer can’t be, as you put it, reversed?” Cialdini asked.

Yuuri’s lips pressed into a thin line, “No. And even if it could be, I’d refuse to do it.”

Viktor really wanted to kiss him. Very much. He didn’t know any other ways to express everything he wanted to say all at once, but there was no time for it as his own father chimed in:

“It’s fixed, then?” he asked Yuuri, intrigued, “Permanent?”

Yuuri fidgeted a bit, averting his gaze again, “Yes. It’s permanent.”

The implications of his words sunk in slowly. Lilia was the first to pull her thoughts together:

“We shouldn’t mention Yuuri’s spell outside this room,” she stated slowly, “for the safety of himself and Vitya. It’s groundbreaking in the area of defense magic, certainly, but for now, we should keep it between us.”

No one objected to that, even though Professor Okukawa looked like she was about to burst with pride (after she had given Yuuri an earful), and Professor Cialdini seemingly looked ready to tell the world that _his_ student had created a defense charm so powerful it repelled an Unforgivable Curse. Still…

“I could teach Chris, though.” Yuuri said slowly, bringing everyone back to reality. “Phichit is a born Legilimens, and a skilled one, as the staff knows. I asked him to subject me to Legilimency so I could practice Occlumency, learning to withstand the intrusion and repel it. So I could understand it, he told me how it works, but I’ve never used it myself, never tried the spell… but I know all the theory behind it.” He looked warily at Chris. “So, if…?”

“Yes.” Chris nodded decisively. “I need to know how. Please.”

There was a knock on the door, and Mr. Longbottom stepped inside, quickly closing the door behind him. His face held a grim expression as he shook his head.

“We found no one.” He confirmed, and Viktor could physically feel his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. “Not in the school, not on the grounds, not in Hogsmeade. Hagrid hasn’t seen anyone running into the Forbidden Forest, and Firenze confirmed it further. Whoever it was knew a way out of the grounds and apparated, or…” his expression darkened, “…or then it’s a student, or a staff member.”

Silence hung heavily in the air as the one thought on everyone’s mind was finally uttered aloud. Viktor swore he could hear his own heartbeat. Possibly Yuuri’s too.

“That is certainly disconcerting, in every way.” Professor McGonagall said, voice quiet. “If the culprit is inside the school…” her lips formed a paper-thin line, “…the Imperius Curse is a powerful one, not something anyone could cast.”

“Then…” Ludmila spoke slowly, voice thin, “…what do we do?”

“Carry on.” Viktor replied his mother, surprising everyone, himself included. “We carry on.”

 

_Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London_.

“We need to burn them.” Yuuri said once he had memorized the note he had been discreetly handed by Professor McGonagall after they had been dismissed, told Viktor’s parents goodbye and been escorted to the Room of Requirement by Professor Okukawa and Yakov. Chris had asked to be taken to Louis, and the professors had complied.

Viktor agreed, handing his own note to Yuuri, who tossed both of them into the crackling flames in the fireplace he had asked the room to provide them with. Not for the first time, Viktor was reminded of how Yuuri tended to think of literally everything.

Which brought his thoughts back to the Headmistress’ office.

“You didn’t tell them everything.” He murmured softly. “About the spell.”

Yuuri closed his eyes briefly, heaving a sigh before turning his head to face Viktor.

“I didn’t.” He confirmed. “But all of what I did say about it was true. It has five parts, and they all work the way I described… basically. Partially.”

“And more in depth?” Viktor pressed on, stepping into Yuuri’s personal space, “I want to know; need to know. Please.”

Yuuri’s expression softened, a small smile settling on his lips.

“You deserve to know.” He added to Viktor’s list, placing a hand on the small of his back. “You might want to sit down again, though.”

Viktor’s mouth was drier than the Sahara desert, but he nodded, allowing Yuuri to lead him over to the loveseat in front of the fire. Yuuri ran a hand through his raven locks, sighing, worrying his bottom lip as he pulled Viktor close.

“The spell, _Stammi Vicino_ ,” he began, leaning in to press a kiss to Viktor’s temple and then to his lips, as if to prove his words were just as honest as his heart, “is… more than a couple of shields, an alarm and a locating spell. The first part _is_ a locating spell, but it’s also a transportation spell, one that defies anti-apparition charms… because it isn’t apparition, more like a…” he frowned, “…an invisible port-key, really. The fourth part of the charm, the inner layer, also reverses the locating and transportation spells in the first one.”

Viktor really had to try hard to keep up.

“So… while the first one brings you to me, the fourth part… takes me to you?”

“Essentially.” Yuuri confirmed, pressing another kiss to his forehead. “And your father was right; all parts of the spell are more effective the more I love you and you love me. It especially enhances the layers of defense, and the speed of the alarm, the locating and transportation spell.” He worried his bottom lip. “There’s… one more thing.”

He cleared his throat slightly, “The fifth part… I said it binds me to you. What I didn’t emphasize is that… what it means is…” he drew a deep breath, “…it works like an unbreakable vow.”

Viktor’s mind and body went numb, white noise filling his head.

Yuuri couldn’t mean… he _couldn’t_ …

“What are you saying?” he heard himself whisper in the distance.

Yuuri closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Viktor’s.

“That I’m… literally… protecting you with my life and love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions answered, more questions arise. Probably.   
> I'm sorry to say I'm really not sorry.
> 
> I am however sorry you had to wait an additional week for this chapter, October hit me hard in the face with a flu and a buttload of work, and there's so much going on I legit forgot first the name of my workplace and then my own name when answering the phone two consecutive times on Thursday. Surely it has nothing to do with balancing a full-time job, studies, a second (masters) thesis and dancing lessons atop all other things I want to do. Like write. And play video games. And have cheese and wine with friends. And play with the cat. Feed cat. Remember that I actually live with my bf of six years and that he probably wants some attention, too. Make him coffee, watch an old episode of TWD, play Diablo III. Then tell bf to have a good time watching some sport or other at the bar with friends and start writing. The dishes can wait. I'm sorry, I'm terribly tired, and it's barely midnight. I'm probably getting old.
> 
> The aim is to have chapter 13 up before the end of next week or at the beginning of the following week, because during the third weekend of October, I will be out of town for performances and dance courses, and not anywhere near a computer... and ever further away from spare time. So if chapter 14 is up before the end of October... well, it's got to be. I'll make it happen. Won't promise 15, though, I need to have 1/3 of my thesis written before 30th October, and I'm only four pages in :'D
> 
> So... I'll leave you with... a kind of cliffhanger? Kind of. Comments will be answered not tonight, but hopefully tomorrow. I hope ^.^ Expect a few delays in the schedule for now, it's really, really hectic at the moment, I'm working overtime a lot. Hopefully it'll calm down a little when November arrives.
> 
> Many hugs, much love, take care of yourselves and each other <3


	13. Where the Heart Belongs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor's list of "things to be worried about" only seems to get longer.  
> How many secrets are Yuuri actually holding?  
> And what lurks in shadows of his father's, and mother's, past?

As the days passed by after the earth-shattering revelations in the Headmistress’ office, and later in the Room of Requirement, Viktor found himself becoming increasingly jumpy and downright paranoid. Not only for himself, but for Yuuri and Chris. Unless they were both within his line of sight, he scarcely managed to breathe normally, and unless he knew Chris was safe and sound with Louis, and he himself could feel Yuuri’s heartbeat beneath his hand at night, he was unable to sleep.

And at all times, especially when he was apart from Yuuri, Viktor found himself thinking about the downright mindboggling spell Yuuri had placed on him. He still hadn’t had the courage to ask in detail what all of it _really_ implied, or how Yuuri had ever thought of even developing something like it.

Mostly, he was afraid of what answer he would receive if he were to ask what the last part of the spell actually entailed.

_It works like an unbreakable vow_.

Viktor knew very well how an unbreakable vow worked, and the thought made him just a little more nauseous than he would like. He found he couldn’t blame Yuuri for his obvious reluctance at sharing that piece of information with him, but he did appreciate he had done so, because Viktor was going to need a lot of time to process it. It was evident that Yuuri knew he was thinking about it, worrying about it, but it seemed he had decided not to explain himself further unless Viktor asked.

Which he was grateful for, in a way. The spell was a lot to handle on its own, let alone have every tiny detail explained intricately all at once.

_I’m literally protecting you with my life and love_.

Viktor swallowed a thick lump in his throat. The thought that Yuuri would… that he was ready to… _do that_ for _him_ was far beyond his realm of understanding, seeing that they had known each other for barely a few months. Whatever was going through Yuuri Katsuki’s mind when he had decided to put his… _life_ on the line for Viktor, it had to had been something that had tipped the world on its axis for him.

And coming to think of it…

…if someone had asked Viktor if he would do the same for Yuuri, he wouldn’t have hesitated to tell them yes and mean it. The thought frightened him as much as it warmed him to the core.

There was something about Yuuri, something about the connection between them, something that Viktor knew had been there from the moment he locked gazes with Yuuri back at the start of term-banquet. Something that had a mind of its own that made time and space irrelevant.

It really was as if Fate had decided to place a Permanent Sticking Charm on them, gluing them together to the point where Viktor wasn’t even sure where his own self ended and Yuuri begun. And knowing what Yuuri had done, what he was willing to risk and sacrifice for Viktor’s sake, showed all too clearly that he felt that something, too.

The turning point for Yuuri had been his Patronus change, Viktor figured. Yuuri had, after all, revealed that it was only after his silvery guardian changed into an adorable ball of fluff that he had finally summoned the courage and resolve to cast the charm fully.

While Viktor hadn’t yet had the courage to ask all the details about Yuuri’s spell, he had managed to steel himself enough to ask to have the words translated to English, and Yuuri had complied. He had also played the aria it was inspired by for Viktor in the dance room per request.

_Stammi vicino_.

Stay close to me. The part that would help Yuuri locate and get to Viktor within the blink of an eye if needed.

_Non te ne andare, ho paura di perderti_.

Don’t go away, I’m afraid of losing you. The outer defense layer, the main shield that had somehow been able to repel the Imperius Curse.

_Le tue mani, le tue gambe; Le mie mani, le mie gambe; E I battati del cuore, si fondono tra loro_.

Your hands, your legs; My hands, my legs; And our heartbeats are blending together. The alarm bell, the part that informed Yuuri about the nature of Viktor’s distress and possible danger, and the part that activated the inner defense layer if the outer happened to get pierced.

And apparently, also the part that was essential for the locating and transportation spells to work. “It’s the glue between the parts.” Yuuri had explained. “The charm would be useless as a whole without it. It’s the most complex and intricate part.”

_Partiamo insieme_.

Let’s leave together. The inner defense layer, the second shield that the third part activated. The part that would allow Viktor to locate and get to Yuuri in a heartbeat if there was danger of the inner layer being pierced. Like a panic portkey, Yuuri had said.

And then… _Oro sono pronto_.

I’m ready now. The final part. The part that not only brought the spell to completion, but the one that tied Yuuri to Viktor. Yuuri’s unbreakable vow – whatever that really meant.

It was the one part that Viktor just wasn’t brave enough to ask more about just yet. He wanted to know, he did, but he needed to process… well, everything else first. That, however, didn’t stop him from thinking about it a lot.

He knew the spell grew stronger the more the shared love between them blossomed. He also knew that Yuuri was well familiarized with his father’s work about love-based magic, and the spell had proved he was far more acquainted with it than Viktor himself. Perhaps even more than his mother, which was saying something.

“The magic of love is a mysterious thing,” Ilia Nikiforov had once said, “it’s not something you can ever really grasp or fully understand. It’s the strongest there is in the world, but few are able to wield it, and so far, no one has really and truly reached an understanding of its full power and potential. It can’t be tamed.”

“Then how can you wield it, if it can’t be tamed?” Viktor had asked, terribly confused, and his father had smiled that warm smile that would cure Dragon Pox and bring world peace one day.

“Remember, Vitya,” he had replied, “no amount of Amortentia could ever change the mind of a heart that has found what it’s beating for. The person who knows where their heart lies, and are willing to give it away, they can perhaps learn how.”

And yet, Viktor had thought in bewilderment, not even the great Ilia Nikiforov, one of the undoubtedly strongest sorcerers alive, had ever managed to create a love-based spell powerful enough to repel an Unforgivable Curse. But Harry Potter, as a teenager, had defeated a powerful dark wizard with the power of love and a well-timed Expelliarmus.

And Yuuri Katsuki, also a teenager, and not much older than Mr. Potter had been during the Second Wizarding War, had somehow managed to save Viktor with the power of love and a spell so intricate it had Ilia Nikiforov on his knees begging for details.

And said Yuuri Katsuki must have heard Viktor thinking too loudly, because the hand around Viktor’s waist tightened its grip. Viktor willingly snuggled closer to his knight in brilliantly shining armor beneath the sheets, closing his eyes even when two questions lingered in his mind.

How had Yuuri been able to create a spell powerful enough to repel an Unforgivable Curse?

And why hadn’t Ilia Nikiforov been able to do the same?

 

**

 

“Did you have time to read the books I gave you?”

Chris nodded affirmatively, “I prioritized them over both studies and romance novels, and I’m very glad I did. Having someone prod around in my mind really isn’t an appealing thought, to be honest.”

The worried crease on Yuuri’s brow didn’t fade as he regarded the determined Swiss contemplatively. Viktor’s eyes darted between his boyfriend and his best friend like he was watching a fast-paced game of Quidditch.

“Remember to study, though, especially DADA.” Yuuri finally settled for, being the model student that he was. “You’ve probably realized by now that Occlumency is… very tricky. It’s an old branch of magic that seems to date back to at least the Middle Ages, maybe earlier, and it’s not easy to master.” He frowned thoughtfully, bottom lip pulled between his teeth.

“I spoke with Mr. Potter.” He then revealed, which came as a surprise to Viktor as well. “The day after the… incident, he returned to Hogwarts and asked for me. He told me about his struggles with learning Occlumency and his inability to ever master it fully… but he also told me about his success at resisting the Imperius Curse since the age of fourteen, and what he wanted to say was that the two don’t always go hand in hand. The difference, he thought, was that with Legilimency, you need to not only fight the intrusion off, but you also need to restrain all of your emotions to make it possible, while with the Imperius Curse, it doesn’t require you to switch off your emotions, but merely a mind and a willpower strong enough to push it away.”

“I can also confirm that I struggled with Occlumency a lot, and it’s only with Phichit’s patience, persistence and help that I’ve been able to learn it, but it’s taken me years and a lot of training, and I’m not entirely sure I’ve actually mastered it yet or not. But, well, nowadays, I can keep Phichit out of my head, and it certainly helped in fighting off the Imperius Curse. So, I read up on it a little further, and apparently, Occlumency doesn’t only help in fending off Legilimency, but can also help in resisting the effects of Veritaserum and possession curses, like the Imperius Curse. Fully mastered, it grants great defense.”

“Sounds about as simple as the books made it out to be.” Chris concluded sarcastically, albeit looking nervous and a little worried. “Why did it take you years?”

Yuuri offered a small smile, “Because I had a hard time suppressing my emotions. You have to close off your mind completely in order for Occlumency to work to its full potential, but when you wear your heart on your sleeve, it becomes a monumental task. It’s not only a mental shield, you see; it’s also an emotional one. According to Mr. Potter, he had the same problem as I did, but he insisted that the mental shield he mastered was enough to fight off the Imperius Curse. It isn’t, however, enough to keep a Legilimens out.”

“Which is what you’ll be doing now?” Chris wanted to clarify, “Obviously you’re not going to cast the Imperius Curse on me, but use Legilimency.”

“Actually…” Yuuri worried his bottom lip, pulling out a small vial from his bag, “I have another suggestion, if you’d prefer.”

Viktor had no trouble identifying the crystal-clear liquid, given the context.

“Veritaserum.” He realized.

Yuuri nodded, “I asked Professor Feltsman if he happened to have any in his storage, and it turns out that my own sample was one of those he had preserved after we handed them in right after Halloween, along with a couple of others… I’d guess Seung-Gil’s would be another. Anyhow, I got my own vial back, and I had Phichit try this on me yesterday, and hence, I can confirm that Occlumency is indeed effective in resisting the effects of the potion, because I kept lying to him for an hour. So…” he cocked an eyebrow, holding the vial out to Chris, “…would you perhaps prefer this solution?”

There was no mistaking the relief settling over Chris’ features at the offer.

“Definitely.” He decided, looking just a little more confident. “But after Christmas, at the very latest, you need to use Legilimency on me. I need to know what it feels like.”

“Agreed.” Yuuri nodded, handing Chris the vial. “So…” he turned to Viktor, “…it’s probably best if you, Viktor, ask Chris questions you know the answer to, so we know how he’s faring.”

“Sure.” Viktor agreed, but didn’t miss the slight crease on Yuuri’s brow that persisted, seemingly unable to fade. “But… what’s wrong, Yuuri?”

He frowned, looking conflicted, “I…” he sighed, pulling a hand through his hair, “…I feel like I’m intruding like this. Like I shouldn’t be here.”

Oh.

Of course he would think like that, Viktor should have known. It was Yuuri, after all.

Chris, however, let out a reassuring laugh, “Don’t worry about that for a second, all right? It’s not like I don’t spam Viktor with anything and everything involving Louis and he does the same about you to me. It’s really only fair, okay?”

It was hard to tell whose cheeks burned hotter, Viktor or Yuuri’s.

“…if you say so…” Yuuri replied slowly, still looking unsure and very much like a cooked lobster.

“I say so.” Chris insisted. “What do I need to do to resist the potion, Professor Katsuki?”

“Don’t call me that!” Yuuri shuddered in horror, which looked all too endearing, causing Viktor to giggle involuntarily, “But, uh… well, first things first, you need to clear your mind. Cleanse it of thoughts and suppress your emotions, don’t show them no matter what. Much easier said than done, but that’s really it.” He gestured to the vial in Chris’ hand. “Drink when you feel you’re ready.”

“I’m never going to be.” Chris confessed, but steeled himself as the pulled out the cork. “Okay, clear the mind and keep emotions at bay.” A sheepish grin spread on his face as he saluted them. “How hard can it be?”

 

The answer was _very_.

“ _Le vache, ma tête_.” Chris muttered, rubbing his temples and wincing, lying on his back on the mattress Viktor and Yuuri had placed him on. “I didn’t do very well, did I?”

Yuuri hummed sympathetically, handing him a small vial of Invigorating Draught to cure the headache, “Well you broke through after the first couple of questions, but then succumbed to the effects of the potions after another two.” He revealed. Chris nodded weakly, gratefully gulping down the potion.

“I clearly felt when I managed to break through, and I remember that part the best, but then it all turned hazy and unreal again.” He told them. “There were a few times when I felt a little more lucid after that, but I didn’t manage to break through fully again.” He shuddered. “The scariest part was when I momentarily broke through the haze and heard Viktor ask what my mother’s maiden name was, and I had a lie ready on my tongue, and I heard myself reply with the truth and not the answer I thought I was going to.” The thought made him look nauseous. “It’s _hard_. And scary.”

“And a strain on your mind.” Yuuri added. “The Veritaserum lasted an hour; that’s more than enough for today.” He offered Chris an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Remember, you _did_ manage to break through it, and there were moments you were lucid enough to register Viktor’s questions. That’s a massive feat, considering you’ve never done anything like this before.”

Chris took a moment to process his words before nodding, “ _C’est vrai_.” He agreed. “I did do that. I’ll just continue to practice.”

Viktor hugged him tightly, burying his face into Chris’ shoulder.

“You can do this.” He told him, believing his own words. Chris’ arms tightened around him determinedly.

“By Merlin, I’m going to.”

 

**

 

Winter break came around faster than Viktor could say “Quidditch”, and Chris and Louis bid farewell and headed to Switzerland with an auror on their heels (not that Louis was aware of that). Phichit and Seung-Gil were both going to stay at Hogwarts, as their families were half a globe away in Thailand and South Korea respectively, and initially, Viktor and Yuuri had planned to do the same.

Initially.

The thing was that Viktor’s seventeenth birthday was coming up, and when it did, he would be required to perform his apparition test and fill in a bunch of papers at the Ministry to, essentially, make him responsible for himself. None of that had changed even though he had moved to the UK, and as such, he was scheduled to sign the papers and perform the test on Christmas Day at the Ministry of Magic in London, under the supervision of (probably) a plethora of aurors and under unusually controlled conditions to prevent him from accidentally apparating outside the Ministry complex.

Needless to say, Yuuri did _not_ like the thought of Viktor going to London while being stuck at Hogwarts himself, protection charm extraordinaire or not. The solution was to visit the Headmistress with the dilemma, and she handed them the answer served on a silver platter.

“It sounds to me like you would greatly benefit from spending winter break at your parents’ hiding place.” She decided, already scribbling on a, for Yuuri, very familiar piece of parchment. “I’ll summon Mr. Potter here to escort you, and inform your parents; go pack your bags.”

Hence, Viktor and Yuuri bid Phichit and Seung-Gil a very merry Christmas and found themselves back in the Headmistress’ office an hour later with their travel bags packed, ready to be transported to the mysterious Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Mr. Potter pointed at an old, rugged quill on the desk and muttered “Portus.”

“Well, it’s unauthorized, technically, since I haven’t had the time to inform my superiors about my choice of method for getting you to the hiding place safely, but I’ll inform Hermione as soon as I’m back at the Ministry.” He offered a slightly sheepish smile. “It’s better like this, because the portkey will take you directly to your destination without the danger of getting stuck in the wrong fireplace, for example… and the location you’re going to isn’t connected to the Floo Network, anyway.”

“Just keep the address in mind and the portkey will take you straight to the living room, and trust me when I say you’d much rather land there than in the hallway.” Mr. Potter paused briefly. “Actually, I’ll give you a piece of advice: make as little noise as humanly possible whenever you’re in the hallway or remotely close to it, okay? There’s an annoying portrait there that starts screeching and cursing the world to oblivion if disturbed.” He turned to Viktor. “I will come to escort you to your apparition test on Christmas Day; you can expect me at a quarter to ten.”

Viktor made a mental note of the information, nodding, “ _Spasibo_.”

Mr. Potter offered a small, genuine smile, “We do our best.”

Somehow, ‘happy holidays’ didn’t feel like an entirely appropriate way to say goodbye considering the circumstances, so instead, they settled for ‘take care’ and ‘be careful’. The look in the Headmistress stern gaze also told Viktor she expected both him and Yuuri to be back at the beginning of January, alive and well, safe and sound, no options offered.

Chest warming pleasantly and heart swelling to aching proportions at the realization and knowledge that his return was expected and very much welcomed and desired, Viktor reached for Yuuri’s hand to link them together before reaching out to place his other hand on the old, rugged quill. Mr. Potter counted to five, and then, the pull in his stomach was instantaneous. Not unfamiliar but slightly uncomfortable, but with the soothing weight of Yuuri’s steady hand in his own, he ignored the unpleasantness.

Because just as soon as it had begun, it was over.

Viktor stumbled a little when his feet hit the floor, but Yuuri was steadier, quickly letting go of the quill to grab Viktor and keep him upright. That helped for approximately half a second, however, because suddenly, both Viktor and Yuuri found themselves tumbling backwards to the floor anyway.

Under the weight of an overexcited poodle.

“Makkachin!” Viktor scolded (giggled), attempting to sit up to scratch her hazel fur. The pooch let out an appreciative ‘boof!’ before turning to Yuuri, who didn’t get the chance to move at all before the dog was all over him, licking his face as Yuuri laughed, bright and unrestrained, scratching her behind the ear. Viktor swore his heart skipped at least a couple of beats at the adorable display.

“What a good girl, Makkachin.” Yuuri praised her as he finally managed to sit up, distracting her with scratches. “Keeping an eye out for your owner. Nice to see you, too.”

“Need a hand?”

Viktor gratefully accepted the outstretched hand his smiling father offered him, and Yuuri did the same, standing up to brush themselves off. Not that they had time to finish the task before Ludmila entered the room as well to do it for them with an efficient flick of her wand, every last strand of doghair and grain of dust disappearing in a heartbeat. Before they had time to react further, she had pulled both of them into a tight, motherly hug.

“Welcome to our humble abode.” She greeted them, taking half a step back to eye the living room critically. “We’ve tried to make it as cozy here as possible, but it was quite a feat.” She glared at the curtains as if she was willing them to throw a doxy at her to see what would happen. “Still, the space is mostly livable now. And we’ve got a room for you, too.” She nodded to the door. “This way, darlings.”

“Let me.” Ilia offered, relieving Yuuri and Viktor of their bags and following them out of the room into a dimly lit hallway and up to the following floor, down another dimly lit corridor until Ludmila stopped outside the last door to the right and opened it for them to peek inside.

“We’ve made a few changes.” She admitted as Yuuri and Viktor’s bags floated over to land on the lavish, four-poster bed. “The bed was far too small for anyone, and the curtains were horrible, but now everything should be in order, including the en suite bathroom.”

It didn’t escape Viktor’s notice that Yuuri was fighting to keep a straight face as he took in the, frankly, extravagant bedroom that was offered to him, the minute movements in the corner of his mouth showing he was struggling to hold back a grin. Involuntarily, he felt his cheeks tingle as they heated up.

There was no doubt as to what Yuuri was thinking, clearly seeing the similarities between Viktor and his mother that were practically jumping in front of his face. Flamboyancy was the middle name Viktor had inherited from her, Yakov would have said. And he would have been right.

“Make yourselves comfortable.” Ilia smiled, placing an arm around his wife’s waist. “And when you’ve settled in, come down to the bottom floor to the kitchen for dinner. Just keep quiet in the hallway, _da_?”

Just like Mr. Potter had told them, then.

The moment the door closed behind Viktor’s parents, the grin Yuuri had been holding back spread wide and smug, and while Viktor really wanted to kiss it right off his stupidly handsome face, he was too busy turning bright crimson to do so.

“Don’t.” He half-demanded, half-pleaded feebly. Yuuri chuckled in amusement.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. I’ve-got-underwear-with-gemstones-on.”

Viktor frowned, a pitiful noise escaping his lips as he buried his face in Yuuri’s shoulder, “You like them!”

“Correction,” Yuuri insisted, trailing a hand down Viktor’s side, way too slowly for it to be entirely innocent, “I like them on you.”

“You prefer them off me.” Viktor accused him with a pout, ignoring his blazing cheeks.

The grin he got in return was downright predatory, and he might have both regretted and not at all regretted his choice of words as Yuuri’s pupils dilated, the black onyx swallowing the dark chocolate like an expanding black hole. There were few things that sent all blood rushing downwards and heat pooling in Viktor’s gut faster than when Yuuri’s seduction levels reached higher than any Veela could ever dream of.

“Well,” Yuuri mused, voice dropping an octave as he pulled Viktor flush against him, hands trailing steadily downwards, hot breath fanning over Viktor’s ear and sending a pleasant shiver down his spine, “I can’t but plead guilty as charged.”

 

**

 

_Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock…_

Time seemed to move too slowly and too fast at the same time. Because while the grandfather clock seemed to be steadily ticking and moving forward, Yuuri still felt as if time had stopped altogether, making second after agonizing second feel like years, minutes like centuries.

Hours like eternity.

His lips were pressed tightly together, jaws clenched as he offered Makkachin scratches behind her ears to keep her (and perhaps himself) calm, staring at the cursed grandfather clock in front of him, as if willing it to give him answers. He wasn’t the only one.

“Mr. Potter said to expect them back by noon.” Ilia attempted to soothe his worried wife, speaking English for Yuuri’s sake. “It’s only half past eleven; he’ll be back soon, Lyusya.” He looked over at Yuuri. “And Yuuri hasn’t felt anything through that extraordinary spell at all, _da_?”

Yuuri shook his head, hoping to at least calm Viktor’s mother down slightly, even when his own heart was racing at a million miles an hour, worry gnawing unforgivingly in the back of his mind. Still, Ilia was right.

“Nothing.” He tried to reassure Ludmila as much as himself. “He’s safe.”

Ludmila eyed him closely, and Yuuri resisted the urge to squirm under her piercing gaze.

“That doesn’t stop you from worrying, and it won’t stop me, either.” She finally said, but there was a softness to her tone that indicated it wasn’t meant as a scolding, then added: “But I do feel better knowing that you will know immediately if something actually is wrong.”

Ilia gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before turning to Yuuri again, “I’d say we’ve gotten more than lucky, considering the circumstances. I feel infinitely more relieved knowing our son is in good and secure hands, and yet…” he offered a sad, melancholic smile, and Yuuri thought that he spotted a wetness in his forest green eyes for a brief moment, “…I’m sorry that you had to find each other at a time like this.”

Yuuri felt the blush spreading on his cheeks, heating him up much more efficiently than the crackling flames in the fireplace. He had to focus his gaze on Makkachin to be able to quietly reply:

“But if there hadn’t been a time like this, we might never have met.”

There was a beat of silence.

“My mother used to say,” Ludmila spoke slowly, gaining his attention, “that there never was anything bad that didn’t bring something good with it. I believe the phrase in English would be ‘every cloud has a silver lining’. And I strongly feel that you’re that silver lining.”

Yuuri’s cheeks might as well have been on fire. He found himself at a loss for words, unable to express what he was feeling, unable to put words to all the emotions that came crashing over him like a tidal wave all at once. He didn’t notice he was crying until he had a pair of motherly arms around him and a shoulder to bury his face into.

“Thank you.” Ludmila murmured, stroking his back soothingly. “For everything.”

 

Viktor landed in the living room of Number 12 Grimmauld Place right before noon, holding onto Mr. Potter’s arm so he wouldn’t tumble to the floor. He was still a little nauseous from all the apparating he had been made to do back and forth in training hall at the Ministry, before having been deemed skilled enough to take the actual test and apparated from the training hall to the Atrium, landing right in front of the fountain.

They hadn’t dared ask him to apparate anywhere outside the facility.

This time around, it wasn’t Makkachin that was the first to reach him, but a steady, familiar body that invited him to lean against it so that Mr. Potter would dare let go off him. Viktor melted into Yuuri’s embrace as a skilled hand found just the right pressure points on his neck, and to his utter relief, Viktor found the headache and the nausea slowly ebb away with the gentle massage.

“You okay?” Yuuri murmured, “Do you want an Invigorating Draught?”

Viktor hummed, content, resting his head on Yuuri’s shoulder, “I’m good. Or, I am now.”

He swore he felt Yuuri’s cheeks heat up at that, something that never failed to make him pleasantly satisfied. Really, there were very few things in the world more satisfying that making Yuuri blush pretty and pink, and he would do so at every chance he got.

“Passed the test with flying colors.” Mr. Potter revealed once Viktor’s parents also reached them. “He landed _exactly_ where he had been instructed to, square in the middle of the circle we had drawn on the floor in the Atrium. No need for retakes there.”

“That sounds like our boy.” Ludmila stated firmly, beaming in both pride and relief.

“He takes after his mother.” Ilia mused, causing his wife’s cheeks to dust pink. “Thank you, Mr. Potter, for escorting him.”

“No trouble at all, sir.” The auror waved it off. “But now, I should get going. Merry Christmas, and happy birthday, Viktor.”

Viktor vaguely registered telling Mr. Potter ‘thank you’ before the auror reversed the portkey and disappeared, but he felt himself starting to drift due to Yuuri gently massaging his neck, which had efficiently caused him to melt into a puddle in his steady arms. He barely noticed Makkachin standing beside them, tail wagging back and forth as she looked up at him with beady eyes.

“Would you like some tea?” he heard his mother ask softly from somewhere in his close proximity, “Or maybe rest first?”

Viktor hummed, nuzzling Yuuri’s neck. Rest sounded nice… but tea also sounded nice…

“Tea first.” He finally decided. “Then rest.”

Tea was nice, Viktor thought. But it was even nicer drifting off on the plush, soft covers of their bed in Yuuri’s arms.

 

It felt nice, Viktor thought again the same evening, snuggling up with Yuuri beneath a blanket in the large armchair in the living room. Spending time with Yuuri and his parents like that, talking about random things, playing games (Yuuri managed to beat Ludmila at wizard chess for some inexplicable reason Viktor had yet to recover from), laughing, sipping on some very nice and very expensive glühwein that his mother had ordered from Germany.

It felt… _right_.

It was how the world was supposed to be, he thought. Yuuri was supposed to be cozy and infinitely warm beside him, and his parents were supposed to laugh bright and unrestrained in joy, and Makkachin was supposed to be sound asleep and comfortable on all the wrapping paper from the presents that had been opened during the evening. While Viktor had gotten a bunch of birthday gifts and a few Christmas presents from people at Hogwarts, Yuuri had gotten a bunch of the latter as well, and all in all, the resulting mountain of paper made a cozy bed for Viktor’s beloved poodle.

Both Yuuri and Viktor had gotten well stocked up on broom caretaking utensils (even though Viktor got about twice as much polish as Yuuri), and Yuuri might have nearly cried with joy when he opened Viktor’s present to find a brand-new pair of Appassionato shoes and a couple of sets of dancing clothes. Then he opened the present from Viktor’s parents and found a pair of skates, and looked like he was about to throw himself on the floor in the world’s deepest bow in gratitude.

He had really needed a new pair of shoes and skates, Viktor knew. He had also gotten Chris a pair of Appassionatos, as his Rhapsodies were really starting to tear, and he could only hope they had reached him in time in Switzerland.

Amongst Viktor’s gifts were premium broom polish from Chris, a self-refilling peacock-feather quill (Sara knew him well), also a brand-new pair of pearly white skates from, surprisingly, Yakov _and_ Lilia, a beautiful sphere holding an accurate depiction of the Milky Way within it (he might have wanted one since forever, thanks mama and papa), and little bits and pieces of this and that.

And then, there was Yuuri’s gift, which had him choking on his own breathing, staring at the small, beautifully shaped crystal vial containing a liquid of shimmering, molten gold that couldn’t be mistaken.

“Professor Slughorn allowed us to try and make it last year on popular demand.” Yuuri revealed, cheeks dusting pink. “It was one of his bravados, and we really wanted him to teach us how to make it properly before he retired. Only Seung-Gil and I succeeded with it, though, and we got to keep a vial of our own potion each as reward, but as you can see, I’ve never used it…” there was a flicker of sadness in his eyes, “…I mean, I know luck can only get you so far, but I thought that… maybe… you know.”

Viktor understood, he thought. Understood where the worry was coming from, why Yuuri felt the need to gift him with something so precious. Understood that Yuuri thought, perhaps accurately, that the day might come when Viktor would need that extra luck, even if it would only help him so far.

“Thank you.” Was the only thing he managed then, in his still stunned state, mesmerized by the essence of luck he had been allowed to hold. That Yuuri had made with his own hands.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Yuuri?” Ilia murmured, examining the potion over Viktor’s shoulder, “That’s a perfect Felix Felicis if I ever saw it.”

Oh, if he only knew just how surprising Yuuri could be.

Viktor had the feeling that he himself only had seen the tip of the iceberg yet.

 

**

 

“Papa?”

When Ilia looked up from his book, Viktor kind of wanted to turn around and go back to his room and Yuuri’s warm, waiting (albeit sleeping) embrace, but he had questions and he needed answers. A look of concern flashed over his father’s features as he undoubtedly saw the hesitance in Viktor’s posture.

“Yes, Vitya?” he encouraged him gently, marking the page and placing the book down onto the table beside him, turning his full attention to his son, “What’s troubling you, my little sun?”

Viktor swallowed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other back and forth before slowly walking over to the couch to sit down beside his papa. He worried his bottom lip, fidgeting with the hems of the sleeves of his silken morning gown.

“Can I…” he took a deep breath, “…can I ask you something?”

Ilia blinked, minutely confused, before offering a reassuring smile.

“Anything, my little sun. Anything to soothe your mind, if only a little. What is it you wonder?”

Viktor’s heart pounded hard in his chest, and he almost regretted having gotten up to seek his father out and ask him anything at all, because summoning courage to ask the question that had been on his mind for weeks was much, much harder than he could have ever anticipated, and he suddenly missed the security of Yuuri’s presence so much that he had to hold back tears.

But… he needed to ask. Needed to know.

“I’ve been thinking.” He began slowly. “A lot.” He had to avert his gaze, because looking into his father’s deep, forest eyes with all their patience and concern became too much on top of everything else. “About Yuuri’s spell.”

Understanding, or something like it, lit up in Ilia’s eyes.

“It’s an extraordinary thing, indeed.” He said slowly. “Yuuri is truly a remarkable wizard, even more so considering his age.”

“Y-yes.” Viktor agreed, a little shaky as he thought about where he was going to lead the topic. “Yuuri’s amazing, I know. But his spell got me thinking…” he chanced a glance at his father, who was still encouraging him to speak further with a reassuring smile and a nod, “…how is it possible that… that Yuuri managed to create and cast a spell that can repel an Unforgivable Curse, and… you know…” he trailed off, unable to finish the question aloud. However, he left it hanging in the air instead, and his father understood.

Well, if the doleful smile he offered was anything to go by, at least.

“Oh, Vitya,” he murmured, shaking his head slowly, “I wish there was one, simple answer to your question that I could give you, but there isn’t. What I can tell you for certain, though, is that even if Yuuri would reveal to me exactly how to perform the spell and I were to place it on your mother, it’s highly unlikely it would repel an Unforgivable Curse.”

Viktor felt his blood run cold for half a second before his father placed a hand on his shoulder and looked him straight in the eye, patient and reassuring.

“Don’t get me wrong, Vitya,” he continued softly, “I love your mother more than life, and I know the feeling is mutual, but that’s not the reason it would be different for us. Love works in mysterious ways, as you know, and what Yuuri has managed to do is something extraordinary, and I believe he understands this more than he’s willing to admit. He knows what he has done, and why it’s possible… but it might be hard for him to comprehend, and hence, he wouldn’t easily speak about it just yet. You see,” his gaze softened, “there are elements in Yuuri’s spell that shows he knows the two of you have something very special, something that very few people on this globe of ours have and are ever going to have. And he used that knowledge to perfect the spell, and I’m sure he will tell you when he manages to wrap his own head around it fully.” The smile turned melancholic. “And it’s something that your mother and I can never have.”

Viktor barely noticed he had stopped breathing.

“Please explain.” He begged, barely above a whisper. “Please. I need to know.”

Ilia’s gaze softened impossibly more as his resolve seemed to crumble in his hands.

“Well, while I don’t know for sure, because only Yuuri does, I do believe that what makes the spell possible, and so powerful, is the fact that…” he paused briefly, closing his eyes to let out a gentle sigh, “…that you’re each other’s first love. Your hearts haven’t belonged to anyone else like this but to each other, haven’t been elsewhere before you met.” His smile trembled. “And in truth, I might envy you just a bit for that, but at the same time, it makes me happy to the point I could burst.”

He fell silent to allow Viktor to process the implications behind his words, while Viktor fruitlessly attempting to keep his rapidly beating heart under control.

“You…” he murmured, trying to piece it together, “…you loved someone before you met mama? Or she loved someone before she met you?”

Ilia inhaled just a little more sharply than normal, his grip on Viktor’s shoulder tightening.

“I did.” He admitted, barely above a whisper. “I fell in love with another before I met your mama. And then I met Lyusya, and I fell far deeper than I ever had before. But…” a pained expression formed on his already troubled features, “…I was soon tricked into believing I didn’t.”

Viktor’s heart stopped.

His father couldn’t mean… he just _couldn’t_ mean what Viktor thought he did. And yet… it seemed he really did.

“When you said that no amount of Amortentia ever could change the mind of a heart that had found where it belongs,” he murmured, voice trembling slightly, “you talked from experience.”

Ilia brushed away a silvery droplet from the corner of his eye with his sleeve, and Viktor’s heart clenched, aching painfully in his chest.

“I did.” He confirmed, sniffling, obviously fighting back a sob. “I know very well that while Amortentia is a terrible, very powerful potion, it isn’t real love, and my heart was with Lyusya. I was the first known person in history, they say, to have fought and won against the effects of the potion, but it took time and effort, constant reminders of Lyusya’s existence…” he drew a shaky breath, “I thought we would never recover from the damage, but…” a trembling smile stretched out on his lips, “…once everything was revealed and the truth came to light, we worked through it together, and it ultimately brought us closer and made us fall even deeper.”

“It was after the traumatic experience that I decided to dedicate my life to the one thing that saved me. Love. And hence, I’m almost certain,” he gave Viktor’s shoulder a squeeze, “that you being Yuuri’s first love, and he yours, matters. Matters enough for his extraordinary spell to work, because the first love is…” he smiled wetly, blinking tears from silver lashes, “…special.”

Viktor went to bed with even more questions than he had had before asking the initial one of his father. And he still didn’t know for sure why Yuuri’s spell worked, but maybe, Yuuri could shed some light on that and prove his father right or wrong one day.

It was his parents’ past, suddenly, that was a bigger mystery, and one that troubled Viktor greatly.

Because… _who_ had subjected his father to Amortentia in order to keep him and his mother apart? Why had they done it?

And… did it matter?

While Viktor wanted to think it didn’t, there was a persistent, gnawing worry in the back of his mind. A little voice repeating, over and over again:

_Yes. Yes, it does_.

…but why?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *screaming* Oh my sweet dear Merlin, finally!
> 
> Work and studies and dancing and that damn thesis are eating up my spare time, so I just decided to put literally everything else aside and at least get that first third of my thesis over and done with before doing anything else, and I made it in time, I handed in 25 pages of actual edited text a week ago, and I think my professor wasn't expecting my text to be that "done", because she dropped by my office on Tuesday to ask "Wasn't your plan to be done with this in May? Think you can make it to March instead and start working on a research plan for a PhD by April? Also, we have this research project going on, and I'm hiring you for September next year to write an article about [topic of expertise], so put that in your calendar. Yeah, it's for a book."
> 
> I haven't stopped screaming yet. Anyway!
> 
> That's chapter 13 for you! With the first third of the thesis done and handed in, I hope to get back on a more regular updating schedule because the entirety of October just flew past in the haze of coffee and a lot of academia, so I've kind of missed not only Halloween but also the YOI anniversary and a lot of stuff which I didn't want to miss but... life happened? Or a lot of academia happened?
> 
> Dare I say... see you next week (and hope for the love of the God of Writing I have time to finish and edit chapter 14 in that time)!
> 
> Hugs and love to all of you! <3


	14. Winter Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With more and more thoughts weighing on his mind, and with no Pensieve in sight, Viktor welcomes any distraction he can get. Preferably involving Yuuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um... I've literally written a contest-winning erotic short story in Swedish (not that it was anything fancy, but people apparently liked it), but writing smut in English is surprisingly hard... but it's not like I'm not going to try. Hence, this is probably the first chapter in the entire fic that has been written partially in Swedish first and then translated to English.
> 
> A kind of interlude... kind of. There is plot, so not really. And I tend to not be graphic in my depictions, but I guess that's for the reader to decide :)

”Do you think it matters?”

Viktor’s question was quiet in the stillness of the winter night, snow falling softly outside while he laid snuggled up with Yuuri under the big, fluffy blanket. Yuuri furrowed his brows in thought, a small frown on his face as the gears slowly and methodically turned in his head. He worried his bottom lip before speaking:

“It might.” It was ever so slightly hesitant, but no less honest. “It’s not something we should exclude… I mean, Amortentia is a powerful and dangerous potion, and not something anyone makes on a whim; it takes months to perfect and requires extreme care and devotion from the maker. If someone’s gone to the lengths of making the potion to keep your parents apart, then they _really_ wanted them apart.”

It was the reply Viktor had anticipated, and also the one he knew most likely to be true. However, it wasn’t the one he had either hoped for nor wanted. He made a noise of discomfort, burying his face into Yuuri’s shoulder.

“I didn’t want to pry when he… he…” he shook his head defiantly, “he obviously didn’t want to think about it, let alone _talk_ about it.”

Yuuri hummed softly in understanding, pressing a kiss to the crown of Viktor’s head.

“Have you considered…” he paused briefly, soothingly stroking Viktor’s back, “…you know, asking your mother about it? From her point of view?”

Viktor swallowed a lump that had long since formed in his throat at the thought, nodding, “I thought about it, and I probably should, but…” he lifted his head to look at Yuuri, seeking comfort in the warm, chestnut gaze, “…how can I approach her with something like this? I mean, if papa is so scarred he cries, mama’s going to flood the house.”

The sigh escaping Yuuri’s lips was soft, and everything but exasperated.

“But how will we know otherwise?” he reasoned.

That question, Viktor unfortunately failed to answer. Ultimately, he had to let out a sigh himself.

“You’re right.” He knew, because of course Yuuri was right. In fact, he was sure he would only need the fingers on a single hand to count the times he had been wrong during the time they had known each other. “I’ll…” he worried his bottom lip, “…I’ll try tomorrow. Whenever papa isn’t around.”

Yuuri shifted slightly, pulling him closer into a reassuring embrace, pressing a kiss to his forehead and then to his lips, a welcome distraction that momentarily silenced Viktor’s troubled thoughts. When Yuuri made a move to pull away, Viktor chased his lips instead, reaching up to cup his cheek to keep him in place. He was delighted to notice he was met with no protest.

Reluctantly, Viktor parted enough to look Yuuri in the eye, swallowing slightly.

“Can we do it together?”

Yuuri’s gaze might have held the slightest hint of hesitance, but he nodded slowly.

“If that’s what you w-“

He was rewarded with a fierce kiss of gratitude before he even finished the sentence.

 

Watching Ludmila move about the kitchen with unfair grace, stirring all the pots and pans, Viktor swallowed thickly as he failed to focus on the task of setting the table together with Yuuri. His mama had sent her husband straight back upstairs when he had come down to offer help with lunch, obviously sleep-deprived and exhausted, and while that did leave her alone with Yuuri and himself, Viktor had an insanely hard time summoning the courage to bring up the topic weighing heavily on his mind.

He really should have known, having been raised by her, that nothing ever escaped Ludmila Nikiforova’s hawk-like eyes. Especially not when it came to a family member.

And especially not when she seemed to know exactly what was going on.

“Vitya,” she spoke gently, and Viktor stilled in his tracks when she turned to look at him, “I know what your papa told you yesterday.”

Straight to the point, no stray paths. Viktor’s throat tightened uncomfortably as he nodded. Ludmila offered a soft look, eyes heavy with sadness as she attempted something akin to a reassuring smile and not quite managing it.

“Have a seat, _solnyshko_ ,” she continued, flicking her wand for the salad to start making itself, “and you too, Yuuri. There must be questions heavy on your mind, but…” she momentarily faltered, shaking her head in that same defiant way Viktor did whenever he had to talk about something he wasn’t entirely comfortable with, “…I… I don’t know if I can answer them all.”

Yuuri silently made his way around the table to sit beside Viktor, who had momentarily stopped breathing as he waited for his mother to speak. Ludmila cleared her throat slightly, firmly looking at the knife cutting tomatoes into fine slices as if the sight was grounding her.

“I fell in love with Ilia the moment I saw him.” She stated without preamble, very much unlike her husband who seemed to speak in riddles even when he didn’t mean to. “I had never in my life seen a man more beautiful, never felt my heart flutter the way it did when he looked at me. Sure, he was older than me by a whole eight years, and twenty-five might feel like a lot when you’re seventeen, but I set my eyes on him.” She paused briefly to flick her wand, stirring the pot of beef stew on the stove.

“He left another one for me, in that gentle way of his; you know, talk it through, reach an understanding, all that. And he took time with it, asked me to wait and be patient… so I did. Then he finally came to me, and all was well.” Her lips pulled into a paper-thin line as she obviously fought to hold back a sniffle. “Or so I thought.”

She failed to hold back a noise somewhere between a frustrated sigh and a sob. A cold hand clenched tightly around Viktor’s heart as her composure slowly crumbled, and he unconsciously reached for Yuuri, lacing their fingers together beneath the table.

“I returned from a visit to my parents in St. Petersburg one day and found the house empty. At first, I thought Ilia had just gone to the library like usual, but… evening came and then night, and he hadn’t returned. So, I searched for him everywhere, at all the places he used to frequent. I even sent him a letter in desperation, but got none back.” She sniffled again. “Then, I hired a Tracker, and had her trace him, seek him out.” Her nostrils flared minutely. “We found him with his ex.”

The grip on her wand tightened along with Viktor’s grip on Yuuri’s hand, but she held it all under admirable control, the pot floating from the stove to land smoothly on the table beside the salad bowl. She exhaled slowly, sinking down on a chair opposite them.

“I knew something was wrong, of course. It was… as if he didn’t recognize me at all.” She tapped a sharp nail against the table unconsciously. “So, I caught him alone with the Tracker’s help and talked to him, tried to get through, tried to figure out what had transpired. At that point, I had considered everything from memory-erasing spells to the Imperius Curse to love potions… and of course, it turned out to be that third option.”

She swallowed thickly, “The problem was that I didn’t know what potion he had been subjected to, only that it was strong. I turned to the Aurors for help, but as I had guessed, they found I didn’t have evidence enough, and none that would indicate he hadn’t gone back on his own free will.” The hand resting on the table clenched into a fist.

“I wasn’t going to give up, though, and I decided that if there was no other option, I’d make Ilia remember me, and remember himself. It took time and a lot of frustration and too many tears to count, but he started to break through the effects of the potion after a few months. Started to fight against it. There were moments when he was lucid, when he pleaded for help, and it was more than enough to convince me to keep going. In secret, of course… and it wasn’t easy.” She huffed a breath, angrily wiping tears from her eyes and cheeks.

“And then… one day, he… his eyes cleared and stayed that way. He didn’t succumb to the potion, didn’t fall back, and he was so scared that he _would_ do so that he clung to me like a lifeline, begged me to help him stay with me.” She pulled a tissue from thin air to blow her nose.

“It was only with Ilia lucid that we finally managed to get the Aurors on the case, and his ex was charged for illegal use of an illegal potion. The trial was a messy process at first, but since Ilia remembered exactly what had happened and how, and had memories to prove everything, it got easier. There was proof enough to finally have his ex subjected to Veritaserum, and all came to light, but…” she frowned, shoulders slumping away from her usual, impeccable posture.

“…it took time. And Ilia never really recovered from it, not that I can say I did, either. It was something so wrong, so deeply violating that we’re going to carry the scars with us for the rest of our lives. There are still times when it’s painful for Ilia to look me in the eye, even though we both know he’s not at fault… but we’ve found a way. Our way.” Her lips trembled as they slowly stretched into a sorrowful smile.

“So… if you’ve ever wondered why you’re an only child, Vitya,” she spoke softly, and Viktor’s gut tightened at her words, “now you know.”

 

It was easier to think, or not think, Viktor figured, while slowly moving through the steps of something akin to a tango with Yuuri over the plush carpet in the bedroom. It had stopped snowing outside, darkness slowly creeping in through the window, leaving the soft light from the oil lamps to cast their subtle, warm glow across the room, shadows dancing along with the two of them. Yuuri was the one leading Viktor through the moves, his soft breath close to his ear, one hand steady and warm on his back while the other held Viktor’s hand carefully cradled to his chest, heartbeat steady beneath their entwined fingers.

Apparently, he was also perfectly capable of reading Viktor’s thought.

“I should have gotten you a Pensieve for your birthday.” Yuuri murmured, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot right below Viktor’s ear that left a pleasantly tingling sensation in its wake. “There’s so much going on in your head, you don’t even know where to start thinking.”

Viktor found a smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite himself.

“A Pensieve wouldn’t have been too bad.” He sighed, frowning as he placed his head on Yuuri’s shoulder. “I need to sleep on it… but I’m not sure I can sleep at all.”

Yuuri hummed, “You’re not tired enough… and you’re afraid your thoughts will follow you into your dreamlands and ruin your rest.”

Viktor paused briefly, just for a breath, before following Yuuri into a slow spin.

“How do you know?” he asked quietly, leaning back just a bit to look Yuuri in the eye, “How do you know when I barely know myself?”

The smile he got in response was small and sad and filled with many apologies.

“Because I used to do that a lot.” Yuuri confessed, letting go of Viktor’s hand to caress his cheek fondly, never ceasing the movements with his feet. “And sometimes, I still do.” He sighed. “I struggled with anxiety for many, many years, until Minako-sensei started making a potion for me to keep it under control. I learned to make it myself, and I drink a little every day to function like a human being.”

The puzzle pieces moved about in Viktor’s head a little more slowly than usual, but then clicked into place all at once.

“Oh,” he realized, unconsciously leaning into Yuuri’s gentle palm, “so that’s what it is. That potion. It looks like mouthwash.”

Yuuri laughed, “Well, I do hope it does, because… you know, it’s not something I like to be reminded of. But no, it’s not mouthwash. It’s an anti-anxiety potion.”

“Draught of Peace?” Viktor guessed, resting his forehead against Yuuri’s, “You’ve dyed it.”

“I have.” Yuuri confirmed, then sighed, dropping his gaze. “I’m sorry, I should have told y-“

Viktor huffed a breath and cut Yuuri off mid-sentence with a kiss, “You just did, didn’t you?” he reminded his boyfriend, enjoying the stunned expression on his face, “I had a hunch, you know, back in McGonagall’s office that night when everything came to light, but… I shrugged it off as being due to the shock.” His lips tugged into a reassuring smile. “I’m glad you told me, though.”

Yuuri sighed again, but slowly mirrored the smile, stroking a thumb along Viktor’s cheek, “What did I do to deserve you?”

Viktor couldn’t help but laugh, “Oh, I don’t know,” he pondered sarcastically, stopping Yuuri mid-movement by hooking his leg around his thigh, “stole my heart and ran away with it? Saved my life? Made me feel like I’m on top of the world? No, I really have no idea, Mr. I-made-a-defense-charm-that-repels-Unforgivable-Curses, but I believe it had something to do with your existence.”

Yuuri’s face was delightfully crimson when he buried it in Viktor’s shoulder, “Stop that.”

Unhooking his leg to place it steadily on the floor, Viktor laughed softly as he dipped Yuuri back until he had no choice but to look up at him, “It’s true.” He insisted, pulling him up again once he was certain Yuuri wouldn’t avert his gaze. “You did steal my heart, you did save my life, and you definitely make me feel like I’m on top of the world.” He stilled his steps as Yuuri’s grip tightened to pull him closer, his heartbeat working its way to his throat as he suddenly found himself very, very close to a firm, warm body.

Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, he held Yuuri’s gaze that was seemingly attempting to burning holes through his soul, his pupil swallowing the maroon iris until it was merely a thin ring around the black. Viktor felt an intense heat stirring at his core, lighting a fire somewhere deep in his gut as words failed him. Yet, they didn’t seem to have failed Yuuri completely yet:

“I can’t give you a Pensieve here and now, even if I’d love to.” He spoke, voice having dropped an octave, cracking a little with obvious restraint as his fingers dug into the fabric of Viktor’s robes. “But if a distraction is what you want, I’ll do my best.”

Yes. Yes, please. A distraction would be more than welcome.

Viktor didn’t reply with words, but instead leaned in close, pausing for a breath just to see Yuuri’s dark lashes flutter against honey-smooth skin before closing the distance between them. He exhaled contentedly through his nose, then inhaled deeply as he wound his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders to pull him impossibly closer. So close he could feel Yuuri’s heart racing, synchronizing with his own, feel the tickling lashes tremble slightly against his cheek as Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut.

Then, his hand traveled upwards to pull Viktor flush against him, the other settling on Viktor’s lower back, digging into the smooth fabric, kneading it in an attempt to get as tight a grip as possible. And as Viktor a second before had noted that the wind was picking up speed outside, snow whirling up from the ground and down from the trees, he was suddenly transported back to the realness of the situation, back into Yuuri’s embrace in a heartbeat, and the wind didn’t matter any longer. He could hear it, but he was no longer listening.

All that mattered was Yuuri’s breath on his skin, his heavily pounding heartbeat, and his unending warmth that had Viktor surrendering to flames hotter than any Fiendfyre.

It was Yuuri who slowly broke the kiss, staying close and searching Viktor’s eyes. His heart fluttered furiously at the sight of wide-blown pupils that mercilessly pulled him into their depths and to Yuuri like the tide to the moon, to that Gubraithian fire that threatened to burn the world until it was only the two of them. Viktor wouldn’t have complained.

Yuuri’s tongue flickered out to briefly lick kiss-bitten lips.

“Okay?” he asked, voice hoarse and quiet.

Viktor’s stomach was doing Sloth Grip Rolls so fast he momentarily felt faint, but refused to avert his gaze. He felt his cheeks blossom hot as he nodded vigorously, wishing to leave no doubt in Yuuri’s mind as to what he wanted. Had wanted for quite some time. But…

He licked his own lips in turn, finding them pleasantly soft, “Are you?”

Whatever worry and doubt had weighed on Yuuri’s mind seemed to slowly dissipate as he processed Viktor’s question. A hint of a smile played on his lips as he leaned in for a brief kiss.

“Very.” He assured, sending Viktor’s heart jumping up to kick his throat, leaving a bunch of fairies to flutter around furiously in his chest. He felt his body numbing, felt dazed as Yuuri kissed him again, firm and loving. “If you want to stop, at any time, tell me.”

“ _Da_.” Viktor agreed in a language he could manage, sinking his fingers deeper into the fabric of Yuuri’s midnight blue robes, trying to ground himself. “Slow?”

At that, Yuuri huffed a fond laugh, cupping Viktor’s cheek to make him look at him.

“Do I look like I’m in a hurry?”

If his aim had been to lighten the air, it worked, because Viktor let out an almost startled giggle in response, shoulders relaxing as he buried his face into the crook of Yuuri’s neck. Suddenly, the soft light in the darkened room seemed brighter, the carpet beneath their feet softer, the raging wind outside a welcome contrast to the warmth he was surrounded with.

“No,” he agreed, “you don’t. I’m just… you know, I…”

To his surprise, Yuuri chuckled, “I hope you don’t mean to tell me you have expectations.”

“Wh-, no!” Viktor exclaimed, shaking his head vigorously as he joined in with Yuuri’s laughter, feeling the tension seep out from his being as he melted into his boyfriend, “No, not like that! Just… nervous. Stupid.”

Yuuri almost snorted, “You think I’m not?” he kissed Viktor’s nose to make a point, “Stupid.” Then his lips. “Come here…”

Plopping himself down onto the soft covers and pulling Yuuri over him, Viktor did feel a little silly about how worked up he had gotten over mostly nothing. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t fooled around before, and if he somehow had thought that Yuuri would be anything but careful, gentle and patient, he might as well not have known his boyfriend at all.

But he did know Yuuri. He had Yuuri’s skin mapped out in detail in his mind; knew that spot at the junction between his neck and shoulder that made his breath hitch, knew just how much pressure to use when trailing his hand along the V-dip of Yuuri’s hips to make him shudder, knew how hard to dig his fingers into the flesh of his inner thigh to make him squeeze his eyes shut with a delightful hiss.

And oh, did Yuuri know Viktor, had all of him memorized in intricate detail, as if Viktor was a particularly complex spell Yuuri wanted to figure out. A hand on the small of his back pulling his hips up had Viktor arching his back in hope for more friction, the flick of a thumb against his nipple had him gasping, aching, and Yuuri used the tilt of his head as it fell back in pleasure to suck a mark right onto his pulse point, making him squirm.

Then turn to putty in Yuuri’s hands as their lips found each other in languid kisses.

It was all familiar and all new simultaneously, and Viktor had to congratulate his boyfriend for somehow staying lucid enough to understand they would have to take the edge off if they were going to move forward. Distracting Viktor with yet another kiss, Yuuri spread his legs enough to fit between them, then reaching down to take them both in hand without further ado. Viktor whimpered into the kiss, arching his back and bucking his hips at the overwhelming sensation of _finally_.

As he hadn’t been blessed with a self-control half as great as Yuuri’s, Viktor released with a hiss only a minute later, body going rigid as he panted hard, making a mess of his abdomen. And just as he had come down enough to think about finishing Yuuri off, his boyfriend added to the mess before he got the chance to do so.

Viktor propped himself up onto his elbows to meet Yuuri in a kiss. When they parted, Yuuri was smiling knowingly.

“Better?” he asked, almost teasingly, yet just as reassuring as the kiss had been.

Stealing another kiss, Viktor hummed contentedly, “Much. Clean me up?”

Yuuri chuckled fondly and complied, reaching for his wand to do as he was asked. All done and less sticky, Viktor pushed himself up and rolled over onto his stomach, looking back at Yuuri through hooded lashes, feeling at least a thousand times more ready than he had been half an hour earlier. Digging his fingers into the soft covers, he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and pushed his hips up.

Fire lit up in Yuuri’s eyes as if summoned by a spell, sending heat pooling in Viktor’s gut faster than any Incendio ever could. He reached out slowly, trailing a hand along the small of Viktor’s back, settling on his ass to squeeze.

“I’m convinced you’re either trying to kill me or make me lose it.” He murmured, turning his burning gaze back to meet Viktor’s. “Or both.”

“The latter.” Viktor revealed with a suggestive smirk, feeling bold. He grabbed a plush pillow and shifted slightly to place it beneath his stomach, attempting to get as comfortable as possible, then reached behind him to trail a finger along Yuuri’s thigh. “Is it working?”

Yuuri let out a choked-out noise, shaking his head.

“What do you think?” he replied, cheeks flushed scarlet much to Viktor’s delight. He reached for his wand again to produce some kind of oil that Viktor definitely liked the smell of… was it sesame? “Okay… relax.”

Well, while Viktor was definitely more relaxed than he had been earlier, he still involuntarily tensed up when Yuuri carefully reached down to circle him for a moment before pressing a single finger in. The gasp that escaped him was a broken one as Viktor harshly clutched the sheets.

Yuuri had his brows furrowed in concentration and probably a little worry as he leaned down to kiss Viktor’s back up to the nape of his neck, then seeking his lips. The angle was a little odd and awkward, but Viktor was all too happy to comply anyway. With the distracting ministrations, he relaxed further, and was soon ready to ask for more.

And Yuuri complied.

Two fingers had him gasping for air, three had him squirming until Yuuri’s soft kisses and small words of concern and encouragement had him melting again. Then, he was hit by a jolt of sudden shock and arousal that had him moaning aloud in surprise. Yuuri merely hummed, probably memorizing the spot for eternity before resuming his work.

Viktor could feel the sweat trickling down his inner thighs and beading on his brow, could feel the sheets beneath him dampening with every hot exhale of breath. It was when he found himself noticing it had started snowing again that he decided Yuuri was taking too long.

Viktor had never been known for his patience, after all.

“Yuuri, come on.” He hissed, glaring at his boyfriend over his shoulder. Yuuri chuckled slightly, then smiled, an almost coy little thing as he leaned down to kiss Viktor’s cheek.

“Okay.” He agreed, pulling his fingers out and eliciting a hiss of annoyance from Viktor, who had grown used to the feeling that actually wasn’t too bad any longer. “Like this?”

As if.

Viktor huffed, turning over and placing the pillow beneath his lower back, placing his ankles on Yuuri’s shoulders.

“No,” he replied as if offended Yuuri would even suggest it, and maybe, he kind of was… a little, “I want to see you.”

Yuuri hummed in understanding, leaning down to kiss him again, “Do you want-?”

“No.” Viktor said firmly before Yuuri even finished the question. “Don’t be stupid. It’s not like I’m going to get pregnant.”

He received an eyeroll in response, “I’m trying to be a responsible adult, and you’re making it very difficult.”

Viktor snorted, hooking his arms around his own legs to pull them up and apart while Yuuri produced some more oil from his wand (it definitely smelled like sesame). He didn’t notice he had momentarily stopped breathing before Yuuri leaned over to kiss him, pecking his lips, cheeks, nose, and lips again until Viktor was a giggling mess beneath him.

“Relax, Vitya.” Yuuri murmured, smiling fondly, offering eskimo-kisses that Viktor instinctively responded to. “You good?”

Kissing him again, Viktor hummed affirmatively, reaching up to place his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders, “I’m good.”

Yuuri nodded before he reached down between them, and Viktor minutely tensed again until he was distracted by a small kiss. And gasped right into it. Obviously, Yuuri must had done a good job before, because Viktor found himself thinking that it probably could have felt much worse than it did. His head attempted to force his mind in another direction, away from the momentary burn and strange sensation. He found himself wondering if Makkachin was perhaps sleeping right outside the door waiting to be let inside, wondering whether he should ask Yakov and/or Lilia about what happened to his father all those years ago, and that wasn’t where he wanted his mind to be at that moment.

Terribly irritating.

Hence, he decisively grabbed Yuuri’s head in both hands and pulled him down for a kiss, wanting, _needing_ some other distraction from his thoughts. Yuuri caught on easily, offering soft, reassuring kisses, and would probably have added a comforting word or two if he hadn’t been extremely focused on the task of taking it slow, following Viktor’s every bodily response as he went along.

Then, he stopped, and stayed.

Viktor opened his eyes, not having realized he had squeezed them shut to begin with, and looked up at Yuuri. A light sheen of sweat was shimmering on the Gryffindor’s brow, his cheeks flushed red as he panted slightly, breaths coming short in his throat. He let out a noise that mostly sounded like a Japanese profanity, looking down at Viktor.

“Okay?” he wanted to check.

Viktor bit his bottom lip again, half contemplatively and more teasingly, and experimentally moved his hips a little, surprising even himself with the thought that he _wanted more_. The action elicited another hissed-out curse from Yuuri that Viktor liked very much, so he repeated the movement.

“Yeah.” He confirmed.

Yuuri huffed out a breath, resting his head on Viktor’s shoulder, “…just a second.”

…oh.

Well, wasn’t that an enticing thought, having the master of stamina and patience balancing on the edge. Viktor shifted a little again as his whole body twitched with interest at the satisfying thought, coaxing a choked-out moan from Yuuri, who quickly inhaled sharply through his nose to hold his breath for a moment. Then, he shook his head, letting out a small laugh.

“I’m not going to last.” He warned.

Viktor found he could have cared less as his own arousal felt almost painfully heavy against his abdomen, and his muscles contracted at the realization that _he_ was the reason Yuuri wasn’t going to last, which had Yuuri cursing in Japanese again. He then shook his head, probably clearing his mind before moving, just a little, but it was enough to set Viktor’s nerve-ends on fire. And he realized…

“Me neither.” Viktor almost gasped in surprise at the prickling, arousing sensation, clutching Yuuri’s shoulders and digging his nails into the smooth skin.

The confession seemed to make Yuuri relax enough to move a little more, rocking his hips carefully. It was more than enough to have Viktor’s head reeling, and in the distance, he heard noises that seemed to be coming from himself, moans and gasps and whimpers breathed against Yuuri’s skin. When Yuuri changed the angle slightly to find the spot that had Viktor’s vision blurring, his head lolled back beyond his control until a hand came to cradle it steadily, fingers tangling into long, loose hair. Viktor let out a long sigh as his mind drifted back to reality, Yuuri’s arm wrapping tightly around his shoulders to hold him close. Feeling a sudden need to just be as _close_ as he possibly could, Viktor wrapped his own arms around Yuuri’s neck and his legs around his waist.

Nope. He _really_ wasn’t going to last.

“Yuu-ri…!” was the millisecond warning he managed before succumbing to a rush of pleasure, body going rigid in Yuuri’s arms as he tilted his head back in a silent gasp, clenching down hard as he came untouched. He thought he heard Yuuri curse in Japanese close to his ear before he suddenly pulled out to release all over Viktor’s stomach.

Panting harshly, he carefully lowered Viktor down onto the bed, resting their foreheads together.

“Sorry.” He apologized sheepishly, glancing down between them. Vitkor chuckled and rolled his eyes, tilting his head up to kiss the silly look off Yuuri’s face.

“Stupid.” Viktor scolded him half-heartedly, surprised by the hoarseness of his own voice. He pouted, “You didn’t have to pull out, you know.”

Yuuri made a noise Viktor couldn’t quite place, sounding mostly like he had choked on his own breathing and moaned at the same time.

“Another time.” He finally managed to gather his thoughts enough to reply, kissing Viktor’s nose and reaching for his for his wand to clean them up. Viktor laughed, suddenly filled to the brim with a bubbling warmth of overflowing joy that seemed to keep fighting to stay on the surface and take over everything else that wasn’t… Yuuri. The realization had him laughing more, and he pulled Yuuri down onto the bed into a kiss, rolling over onto the side to tangle their legs together.

“Another time.” He agreed, smiling. Thoughts of Inferno and his parents’ troubled past were finally pressed somewhere into the back of his mind and seemed to stay there, much to his delight. “And many a time after that.”

Yuuri nodded, fatigue catching up with him as he kept stroking Viktor’s hair.

_Stay close to me_ was spoken in silence.

 

**

 

“It’s a stupid plan.”

“It’s a brilliant plan.”

“It’s _not!_ They’re never going to fall for something so brilliantly stupid!”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what the hell is the point?!”

“Confusion. They won’t know what to think; I told you all this!”

“There must be at least a hundred ways to-“

“Shut up, brat, and do as you’re told! Remember your place.”

“…fuck you. Fine!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to direct many thanks to You Who Don't Want To Be Named for encouraging me to actually get this part written and also encouraging me to keep the style I prefer and feel comfortable with and just translate it to English without thinking too hard. Thank you for your pointers, for challenging me to "keep it real" (and you know the sesame oil is your fault and I love it) and "keep the tension" at the same time. There's only practice-practice-practice when it comes to writing, and I'm never getting practice if I don't go "fuck it" and just do it.
> 
> So thank You for kicking me in the butt.
> 
> *clears throat*
> 
> I made it as planned, wohoo! It's father's day here today and I decided last minute to head home for the weekend, but still somehow got it done. I hope to be back with the next chapter in about a week again :) and boy, are things going to happen... *blinks innocently* I said nothing.
> 
> But it's past midnight and I have to wake up in five hours, so I'll return to your comments shortly, hopefully tomorrow evening ^.^ thank you all so much for your love and continuous support! You're amazing <3


	15. Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yakov feels terribly old. And how many more secrets might Viktor's parents actually be holding?  
> Wasn't it enough that he was awoken from a confusing, albeit pleasant, dream for... this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some confusion! *hurts self in confusion* But don't do that! *hands out Persim berries*

Yakov sighed heavily, leaning back in his creaking chair. He was completely and absolutely positive he could feel his poor hair thinning out on his head and the wrinkles on his face deepening with every exhale of breath, making him at least a decade older by the minute.

Begrudgingly, he had to accept that a glorious time of peace and quiet (as quiet as it could be with that damn poltergeist around) was rapidly coming to an end. Soon enough, the classrooms would fill up with students once again, and those students would either be wanting their grades soon and preferably yesterday, or dreading them to the point where they were considering not returning to the castle after the break. Some had worked hard for good grades, Georgi Popovich among them, some had sailed right through, Viktor being a prime example, and some hadn’t really bothered at all. Among the last group was Yuri Plisetsky, who still had managed a decent A without obviously having studied at all.

Most hadn’t been as lucky as he had, and it was with a deep frown that Yakov begrudgingly had placed that deep red A on Plisetsky’s parchment.

And then, there were students like Yuuri Katsuki and Seung-Gil Lee (though no more than a handful), that seemed intent on exceeding everyone’s expectations every single time without looking like they were breaking a sweat in the process. Yakov, however, knew there was a lot of sweat and curses behind those good grades, and it showed. Viktor might have had a natural talent for most things magic, except Defense Against the Dark Arts, but for people like Katsuki and Lee, it was less talent and more raw, hard work behind the skills.

Then again, Katsuki had both the talent and the hard-earned skills necessary to outclass most aurors in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Yakov had known that long before he even saw the boy, as he happened to be Celestino’s favorite topic of discussion.

“I’m telling you, he’ll go far whatever path he chooses to take.” The Gryffindor Head of House had stated confidently one day when the two of them happened to be alone in the staffroom. “He’s been set on becoming an auror since his fifth year, possibly earlier, and the authorities in both Britain and Japan are already stretching out their arms to haul him in when he’s finished here. He says he hasn’t decided yet, but I’d take a guess and say he’s leaning towards Japan… or perhaps jump onto the IAA.”

Yakov couldn’t really pride himself in being quite as generous with the praise concerning his long-time pupil, but he was still intent on making it clear to anyone and everyone with ears that Viktor Nikiforov had a brilliant mind and an enormous natural talent. He was just a bit of an airhead at times. And lacked patience, something Yakov had scolded him for so many times he could probably have bought himself the entirety of Great Britain if he’d gotten a galleon for every time he had done so.

Although, Yakov pondered while looking absentmindedly at the essay in front of him, that might have changed a bit ever since Yuuri Katsuki strode into Viktor’s life and visibly rewrote the rules of the boy’s universe.

The thing was that Yakov could easily have told the difference between Viktor before and after Hogwarts, because Viktor before Hogwarts had been a heartbreakingly lonely soul. He had distanced himself from others since day one at Koldovstoretz, because there, he had been the son of Ludmila and Ilia Nikiforov, and that had sealed the deal. He was an instant celebrity, and played the part perfectly, putting on that smile his mother used whenever she was faced with the press. Essentially, he became unreachable from the start, and the only other student he became even remotely close with was Ruslan Yermilov, a boy who worshipped the ground Viktor walked on at first and slowly learned to see through the mask. At the end of the day, however, Ruslan played cards with his friends and Viktor was still alone.

Then Viktor transferred to Hogwarts, and everything changed.

There weren’t many who knew who Ilia Nikiforov was, for one, and even fewer who had good enough grasp on foreign wizarding politics to know who Ludmila Nikiforova was, which had presented Viktor with the perfect opportunity to blend right in with everyone else. Well, as well as one _could_ blend in if they happened to be mistaken for a Veela every other step they took, that was. Still, for the first time ever, Viktor had been accepted and taken in as an equal, instantly making friends, and the ice mask he had so carefully crafted over the span of at least five years melted away faster than Yakov could blink. It had been the first time in his life when he was able to tell what Viktor was thinking and feeling at first glance, without having to peel the damned mask off first to have a closer look.

Already at the start of term-banquet, Yakov had witnessed Viktor’s openly awed expression as he looked towards the Gryffindor table, and he had known that the sought-after Head Boy wouldn’t be available for long after that. He knew because Viktor Nikiforov always, _always_ got what he wanted, whether he had to work for it or not. Hence, he had admittedly been surprised when it took until October before he spotted them entering the castle grounds from Hogsmeade hand in hand, and even more surprised when it became clear it was Katsuki that had reached out to Viktor and not the other way around.

And if he could tell the difference between Viktor before and after Hogwarts, he could definitely tell the difference between Viktor before and after Yuuri Katsuki. It was a simple thing, really, but one that made his old heart ache painfully in his chest in joy for his long-time pupil.

Viktor was _happy_.

He was so happy he could burst, bubbly and bright, like he had been held in shackles his entire life and Katsuki had unlocked the chains holding him with a flick of his wand. Perhaps even more importantly, Viktor felt safe with him. Katsuki was a steady cliff in the storm, like the rock holding Mahoutokoro standing in the harsh winds of the Pacific Ocean, and he was Viktor’s to lean on every time and any time he needed and wanted.

As if that wasn’t enough for Yakov to want thank Katsuki at least ten times a day for the rest of his life, the boy had then somehow created a spell so powerful it had repelled an Unforgivable Curse. Using the power of their shared affection.

It was mindboggling, and Yakov had seen a lot of things in his lifetime. He had seen Elizaveta Aristova win a duel against a Chinese Fireball when it threatened to spit fire over their hometown, and then become Minister for Magic years later when her magic skills finally became properly recognized. He had seen Ilia Nikiforov win the fight against Amortentia with the potion still within his system. And he had seen Lilia Baranovskaya dance like a goddess in the night of the full moon to, somehow, keep werewolves at bay. He still didn’t understand what her secret was, and part of him didn’t want to.

It had perhaps been foolish of him to believe he had seen it all, because Yuuri Katsuki proved him terribly, terribly wrong. Made Yakov second-guess everything he knew to the point where he wasn’t even sure he knew what love or magic was any longer.

Then again, perhaps he had never known and was never meant to, either. Maybe that kind of knowledge was reserved for people like this one Yuuri Katsuki, who clearly held the knowledge but didn’t understand they did. Maybe.

But surely, it had been love, romantic and passionate, that he had felt for Lilia Baranovskaya. The only woman to ever have made his pulse quicken and his knees weaken.

Perhaps she still did that. Or, alternatively, Yakov’s knees were growing old faster than his face and his blood pressure was immediate danger of punching a hole through his veins. While he kind of wished it to be the alternative explanation, he knew it to be the more unlikely one. Unfortunately.

Giving up a frustrated grunt, he picked up the essay he had just placed an almost elegant O on (it was Katsuki’s essay, go figure), before placing it in the pile to the right on the desk and standing up. Deciding he had done enough hours in one day, he stretched and stood up, checking the time. Past midnight.

Great.

Putting out the candles in the office, he locked the door behind him and lit the tip of his wand before starting towards the closest staircase to head to his chambers. A warming fire in the fireplace and a comfortable bed sounded like paradise to his tired limbs, and perhaps a small glass of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey for his poor head-

“ _Imperio!_ ”

Yakov instinctively ducked. It had been a very, very long time since he had dueled, but after the long and dangerous road from Russia to England, he seemed to have gained back some of the vigor he once had. He whirled around.

“ _Homenum revelio!_ ”

A high-pitched yelp was heard as a figure in black was pulled out of the shadows from behind a statue, wand already pointed at Yakov again.

“ _Imperi-!_ ”

“ _Silencio!_ ” Yakov shouted on instinct, shocked over his own decision for a second, and even more shocked over the realization that…

…that whoever was attacking him wasn’t using nonverbal spells. Not even whispering, but downright _shouting_ them aloud for the world to hear.

The silencing charm hit its mark and the figure clutched its throat, wand trembling helplessly, still pointed at Yakov and seemingly rendered useless. Then, the figure abruptly turned around and dashed, and Yakov snapped out of his momentary standstill.

“ _Impedimenta!_ ” he shouted, nonverbality forgotten as he chased the quick devil through the corridor. The stopping charm barely missed the mark and hit the wall. “ _Impedi-!_ ”

“ _Stupefy!_ ”

The figure suddenly stopped mid motion, only to fall straight into the arms of one Lilia Baranovskaya, who clearly was the caster of the stupefying charm, wand still in hand. Yakov hurried up to her and the dark figure as she pocketed her wand and heaved the figure up bridal style.

And stilled.

So did Yakov.

They stared at the black-cladded figure in silence for a beat longer, taking in the evidence right in front of their eyes.

“The figure in Katsuki’s memory…” Yakov finally spoke, finding his voice buried somewhere beneath the shock and confusion, “…was bigger.”

Lilia nodded slowly, furrowing her brows, “Definitely. Too short, too…” she trailed off before she got started, looking up at Yakov with a troubled expression. “Message Celestino and Minerva. Let’s go directly to her office.”

 

**

 

Viktor once again found himself safe and secure behind Yuuri’s back, feeling the heat of the intense flames as Yuuri fought Inferno fire with fire. The light of Yuuri’s spell expanded to blazing bright and golden, surrounding them, burning the darkness…

…and then, he was standing right beside the Great Lake on the Hogwart’s grounds. Viktor blinked.

The sun was shining, the grass bowing softly, the water rippling blue and sparkling on the beautiful summer’s day. He turned his head to find Yuuri standing there with him beneath the great oak tree, smiling, holding Viktor’s hand. Shining so brightly Viktor almost had to avert his gaze and squint.

It was then he noticed Yuuri’s robes were made of the finest shimmering golden fabric, and that the grass he was standing on somehow seemed more lush and green than everything else around them, serving as a soft bedding for the acorns that had fallen onto the ground. In his left hand, Yuuri held a bouquet of vibrant, green leaves hosting tiny, delicate white flowers.

Lily of the Valley, Viktor registered.

Then he was offered the bouquet in question with a soft smile and even softer gaze. Instinctively, Viktor slowly reached out to accept it, when…

“ _Vitya_.” Yuuri spoke suddenly, and Viktor stilled, puzzled.

This was a new part of his dream, and he had no clue what to do next.

“ _Vitya_.” Yuuri spoke again, a little more firmly.

What was he supposed to do?

“Vitya, wake up.”

…huh?

Viktor abruptly opened his eyes, and was shocked by the sudden dimness around him in contrast to all the brightness he had just been subjected to in his dreamlands. Apparently, he was clutching Yuuri’s hand tight, but he couldn’t really tell then while still balancing between sleep and shock. Only when Yuuri started to softly plant butterfly kisses all over his face did Viktor feel himself relax, and yes, he was definitely holding Yuuri’s poor hand in a death grip.

“You with me?” Yuuri asked quietly. Viktor blinked, a little disoriented but more awake, and Yuuri placed another kiss to his forehead as he nodded, “Your dad was here a minute ago; he told me to wake you up and for us to get dressed and join him and your mum in the living room immediately.”

That… didn’t sound good. At all.

Viktor heaved himself up onto his elbows, staring at Yuuri wide-eyed in hope for all of his million questions to be answered all at once, but sadly, he only got a worried frown. Yuuri definitely looked troubled as he continued:

“I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but something’s obviously happened at Hogwarts. But!” he quickly added when Viktor instinctively sat up so abruptly that his head spun, “But, no one’s been hurt, that much I know. Everyone’s alive and okay.”

While that _was_ a piece of nice news among all the terrible ones, Viktor still got dressed with a sense of dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. All done, he grabbed Yuuri’s hand without offering alternatives and pulled him along, Makkachin worryingly tailing behind them to the living room. Viktor’s heart was lodged somewhere high up in his throat long before he was met with the troubled expressions of his parents and Mr. Potter.

“Who?” was the question ready at the tip of his tongue, uttered without a second thought before he even came to a halt, “Please, who?”

Mr. Potter offered a sympathetic, sad smile.

“Mr. Feltsman.” He replied evenly, and Viktor’s breath caught short as his throat seized up, stomach tightening into a tiny mokeskin know. “But he’s unharmed, and wasn’t even hit once.” He nodded towards an empty inkbottle on the tea table. “We should get going.”

“Should we bring our things?” Yuuri asked, offering a grounding voice of reason that seemed to bring not only Viktor but also both his parents back to Earth for a second, “The semester starts on the day after tomorrow, and the less Viktor travels back and forth like this, the better.”

Well, wasn’t that the feeling of Viktor’s heart kicking him hard in the ribcage and making him dizzy for a whole other reason entirely than a second ago. Just when he thought he couldn’t possibly fall more in love with that incredible wizard whose hand he was probably killing with his own, Yuuri surprised yet again and had Viktor falling flat on his face.

Even when everyone’s thoughts were distracted elsewhere, Yuuri had Viktor as number one priority, and it probably wasn’t ideal for Viktor’s health. Well, unless constant cardiac arrests and asphyxiations were considered healthy.

Ludmila was the first to recover:

“You’re right, Yuuri.” She agreed, nodding, obviously trying to clear her thoughts. “You should bring your things with you back to Hogwarts and then stay there… if you can stay there with everything going on…?” the almost-question was directed to Mr. Potter, along with an uncertain look. He offered another sad smile.

“We have to assess that once we’re back at the castle.” He replied. “But we can wait a few more minutes while you pack, of course.”

“No need.” Yuuri waved it off, wand already in hand, flicking it elegantly. “I already packed while Viktor was getting dressed. Just in case.”

Of course he had. There were very few things Yuuri did _not_ think of, after all, especially when it came to anything even remotely concerning Viktor. He might have felt a bit faint the first time he was presented with evidence of that.

Viktor grabbed his bag when it came flying towards him, pulling it over his shoulder as Yuuri did the same. Mr. Potter nodded.

“Let’s go then.” He said, gesturing to the inkbottle again. “They’re waiting.”

 

Traveling by portkey would never, ever become a comfortable ride, no matter how many times it was done. At least, that was what Viktor figured when he placed a finger on the inkbottle and squeezed Yuuri’s hand in his as he felt the hook right behind his navel pull him up and out of Number 12 Grimmauld place and straight into the familiar, circular office space.

They were met with, unfortunately, equally familiar, grim expressions belonging to the Headmistress, Professor Cialdini, and…

“Yakov!”

Viktor’s legs were moving on their own accord before he even realized it, and he flung his arms around his mentor, conflicting emotions of dread, fear, and relief washing over him in one, confusing wave that spilled right down his cheeks and onto Yakov’s robes. He also didn’t realize he had started babbling incoherent questions of “what, how, when, who” in Russian before he was gently pushed back into a firm, safely familiar chest, Yakov keeping his hands on Viktor’s shoulder.

“Look at me, Vitya.” He spoke in his usual, gruff tone. Viktor did as told. “I’m unharmed, and I can’t say that I really was in any kind of danger. So if you’ll just stay right where you are, we’ll tell you all we know so far.” He promised, looking behind Viktor. “Do you have any magical way to keep his head leveled, Mr. Katsuki?”

Viktor felt more than heard Yuuri’s fond chuckle behind him, and he might have glared at Yakov if it wasn’t for the welcomed distraction of Yuuri handing him a tissue to blow his nose with.

“I’m afraid not, Professor.” Yuuri humored Viktor’s mentor. “But I’m sure that Viktor, like all of us, would listen intently if you would tell us what happened.”

Yakov nodded, sighing as he pulled a hand through his thinning hair. Or whatever was left of it.

“Well,” he began, “it was unexpected, to say the least. I had been gradin essays in the office till a little past midnight, and just as I had exited the office to make my way to my chambers, someone shouted _Imperio_ behind me.”

Viktor felt his eyes widen to saucers, and he had about a million questions he wanted answered all at the same time, but Yuuri’s hand on his shoulder stopped him from uttering a single one of them in favor of letting Yakov continue:

“I ducked and turned around, and used a Revelio-charm to locate the perpetrator. They were pulled out in the empty corridor, and when they started to shout out the Imperius Curse again, I silenced them. Then, they tried to flee the scene.” His expression made him look like an old, annoyed bulldog, which would have been funny in literally any other situation, Viktor thought.

“My stopping charm didn’t help much, but Lilia heard the ruckus as she was doing her nightly rounds nearby, and stupefied the perpetrator.” He frowned. “But it was all… very strange.”

“A lot of questions arose, of course.” Celestino took over before anyone got the chance to start asking those million questions he was undoubtedly talking about. “Like why the perpetrator wasn’t using nonverbal magic, and even more peculiarly, why they seemed so much smaller than the figure that attacked Yuuri.” A deep, worried crease formed on his brow. “And when we removed the mask, we… we could only assume that the real victim in all this wasn’t Yakov at all.”

Viktor felt nauseous.

“Then who?” Ilia asked, voice tight.

Professor Cialdini looked over at the Headmistress, who looked like she had swallowed a raincloud’s worth of gloom in the span of an hour. She sighed deeply.

“Well…”

 

_An hour earlier_

“I thought it was somewhat familiar.” Lilia said glumly, looking down at the passed-out form on the Headmistress’ bed. “I’ve had him in dance class since his first year at Hogwarts; I should have recognized.”

“You know the shapes, sizes and movements of all students better than anyone, Lilia.” McGonagall agreed, her lips drawn into a paper-thin line. “But even you couldn’t identify the person in Mr. Katsuki’s memory.”

Lilia frowned, “The only thing Yuuri’s memory of the figure told me was that the person is either so averagely build there is no way to pinpoint exactly who it is, or that the person who attacked him understood there could be a possibility Yuuri would have recognized them somehow and taken pre-emptive measures for it.” She crossed her arms. “But seeing as the person who attacked Yuuri was clearly more skilled in magic than a fifth year, I’d say we can gather it wasn’t young Plisetsky here who snuck up on him.”

“It’s highly unlikely.” Mr. Potter confirmed, placing Yuri’s wand back on the nightstand. “He doesn’t possess the magical ability or level of skill needed to perform anything remotely as complex as the Imperius Curse. _Prior Incantatem_ shows that the attempts drained him fiercely.”

“Then, I suppose you’re suggesting Yuri did all this under the influence of the Imperius Curse.” Yakov summed it up with a grunt. Mr. Potter, however, frowned.

“That’s, actually, somewhat unlikely, too.”

The shocked silence seemed to stretch out for several beats before Yakov asked, voice thin:

“What?” he looked perfectly stunned, “How?”

Mr. Potter shook his head, “The Imperius Curse is a tricky one. When used correctly, it places the victim under the caster’s complete control, meaning it also grants the victim the skills necessary to carry out the task they’ve been assigned. If Plisetsky had been subjected to the curse, correctly that is, he would have been granted the magical skill necessary to perform the Imperius Curse himself, and to do it nonverbally.”

“There’s a loophole there, though, isn’t there?” Celestino pointed out, “He would have been ‘granted’ the skills _if_ the curse had been performed correctly – but it might not have been.”

“Which is why I phrased it as ‘somewhat’ unlikely.” Mr. Potter nodded in agreement. “He might have been subjected to an incorrectly cast Imperius Curse, and we can’t exclude that option, either.”

“But Yuuri was subjected to the curse and described it in such a way that Celestino immediately could confirm the symptoms.” Lilia pointed out. “So, if the person who attacked Yuri here is the same that attacked Yuuri, it should have worked correctly on him, too.”

“Not necessarily, since we don’t know if the curse was actually correctly cast on Mr. Katsuki either.” McGonagall reminded her. “He snapped out of it so quickly that we’ll probably never know if it was correctly cast or not, even though it felt like it. It’s not a guarantee for anything.”

“But if this _isn’t_ a case of a poorly cast Imperius Curse,” Yakov said slowly, frowning deeply, “then what has Plisetsky been subjected to? Unless he for some inexplicable reason actually meant to attack me while waking up half the castle and without a single clue for how the Imperius Curse actually works.”

Silence enveloped the room for a moment as everyone sketched out numerous possible scenario’s in their heads. At last, McGonagall cleared her throat:

“First, we should wake young Plisetsky up. Then, we should inform the Nikiforovs and Mr. Katsuki.”

 

_Present_

“And what was it?” Ilia asked immediately when it was clear that the Headmistress wasn’t going to speak further, “Did you find out why young Plisetsky attacked Yakov, ma’am?”

Professor McGonagall looked like she had aged at least twenty years since Viktor had seen her before winter break, offering a soft, concerned look in reply.

“I think it’s better if you hear it directly from him. Lilia is with him in my chambers, but they should be ready to come down soon.”

“I’ll go check.” Yakov offered in his usual gruff manner, making his way up the stairs before anyone could protest.

“Then, he’s… himself, at least?” Ludmila inquired quietly. Professor McGonagall nodded.

“He’s himself, and his story is… peculiar, to say the least.”

Viktor figured that whatever in the name of Merlin she meant by that, it probably wasn’t good. He exchanged a glance with Yuuri, who looked just as troubled as he felt but still leaned close to place a soft, reassuring kiss to Viktor’s cheek. He was probably trying to reassure himself as well.

The door to the Headmistress’ chambers opened only a second later, revealing an ever so grumpy Yakov, and a very pale Lilia, who was holding her arm around the shoulders of a nauseous-looking, shaken Yuri Plisetsky. His blond locks were unusually stripy, skin almost sickly grey as he was helped down the stairs on unsteady footing. Viktor’s heart was aching, and he itched to run up and hug his younger peer, but resisted. Yuri might not have liked it, he wasn’t entirely sure.

Only when he reached the end of the staircase did Yuri lift his head, searching the room until his eyes landed on Vikt-

…no.

On Yuuri.

“Katsudon?” he croaked weakly, voice cracked and fragile, and it was only then that Viktor noticed the drying tracks of tears on his cheeks. Yuuri gave Viktor a reassuring squeeze and another kiss on the cheek before letting go, walking over to Yuri instead, who did something Viktor thought he would never have gotten to witness in his entire life.

To the amazement of seemingly everyone but Lilia, Yuri willingly accepted Yuuri’s offer, disappearing into the supportive embrace without a hitch.

Well, almost. There was definitely a hitch in his breath when he started crying again. Moments later, he was sobbing uncontrollably into Yuuri’s chest, hands curled into tight fists, clutching the fabric of Yuuri’s robes like his sanity depended on it. Maybe it did.

Yuuri, blessed with the patience of a mountain, remained silent, carefully running a soothing hand up and down Yuri’s back until the sobs slowly came to a halt, reduced to incoherent sniffling. No one dared speak as Yuuri pulled a tissue from thin air and offered it to Yuri, who accepted it to blow his nose and irritably dry his tears. Only when he was done dared Yuuri ask:

“What happened, Yuri?”

Yuri sniffled again, drying the last of his tears on his sleeve in an impatient gesture.

“I was so fucking scared, Katsudon.” He croaked, refusing to look anywhere else but Yuuri’s chest, perhaps not wanting to be reminded of the fact that others were listening, too. “So fucking scared. I was heading back to the dungeons from the Gryffindor Tower last night when my mind went all fuzzy, and at first, it was…” he gestured impatiently, “…it felt fucking fantastic, you know? Like I didn’t have a damn care in the fucking world. But then I heard a voice, and I freaked out.”

Yuuri waited a moment before coaxing him along, “What did the voice say?”

Yuri shrugged, looking down at his feet, “That I should cast the Imperius Curse on Yakov, I remember. And I somehow figured that wasn’t something I wanted to do, you know? My head was screaming no, but my body was doing as the voice was saying beyond my control, and, fuck, Katsudon…” he wiped away more tears, stubbornly staring downwards, “…so fucking scary. It said I should dress all in black and put a mask on, and I have no fucking idea where those garbs came from, but I didn’t want to put them on, and…” his fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly in discomfort.

“There was someone there,” he almost whispered, and Viktor’s level of alertness went from a hundred to a million in half a second, jaw dropping to the floor in shock. The real perpetrator had perhaps been right there with Yuri, and maybe he had- “but I can’t recall their face or anything like that; just a dark blur.”

Viktor’s heart sank like a rock as Yuri continued:

“They forced the mask on my, and then, my head went numb again for a second. My legs walked me straight to Yakov’s office, and I wanted to scream as my hand grabbed my wand. Then I somehow realized… that I _could_ scream, you know?” he hesitantly looked up at Yuuri for a second before averting his gaze again, “Because the voice had told me to cast the Imperius Curse on Yakov, but not how. So I… shouted.” He almost swatted the tears away from his face in anger.

“It hurt like hell. Casting the curse. Not that I managed to cast it at all, I think. I just remember it hurting a lot, like I had a million needles inside me that suddenly threatened to escape through my skin all at once. Like I was being punished for failing or some shit. I remember being told to run and that I ran, and then everything went black. Next thing I know, I wake up here and I feel like I’ve been hit by the Cruciatus Curse for ten fucking years.” He swallowed thickly, fidgeting with his robes as he finally gained the courage to look up at Yuuri fully.

“Katsudon… what the fuck is going on?”

 

“What will happen to Yuri?” Viktor worried when the shaken Slytherin was escorted away from the office to the Hospital Wing by Lilia and Professor Cialdini. Professor McGonagall’s already concerned expression only seemed to get more troubled.

“That’s not an easy question to answer.” She admitted with a sigh, sinking down onto the chair behind her desk. “He lives with his grandfather, and as far as we know, he has no other living relatives. On one hand, I wish we could offer the solution of memory removal, so he wouldn’t have to carry the shock of the incident with him like this, but on the other hand, it’s not a solution to prefer in the long run.”

Well, Viktor could agree with that, and if Yuuri’s slow nodding was any indication, he was thinking along the same lines. So was, apparently, Mr. Potter.

“The option of memory removal would have to go through Hermione for approval, and I’m absolutely certain she wouldn’t even agree to consider it unless Mr. Plisetsky explicitly asked for it.” He told them, deep creases of thought (and probably headache) on his forehead. “I’m afraid the best we can do for now is give him the options to either stay at Hogwarts and see to it he’s never alone when moving about in common spaces, or to go home to his grandfather to recover from the shock and return later. If he were to choose the latter option, we can have an auror on look-out for him.”

Professor McGonagall nodded slowly, “That’s up for Mr. Plisetsky to decide when he has rested properly.”

It all sounded good enough, Viktor thought, leaning back against Yuuri, who wound an arm around his waist and pulled him close, warm and steady in all the chaos, as if it didn’t affect him at all. As if he was immune to turbulence, even though Viktor knew he wasn’t.

He was just very, very good at keeping steady for Viktor, and got all the reassurance he needed in return with whatever affection Viktor had to offer him. Which was a lot.

“This grandfather you’re speaking of…” Ilia suddenly spoke up, ever so slightly hesitant when everyone stilled and turned to look at him, “…you wouldn’t happen to be talking about Nikolai Plisetsky?”

Seeing the expression on his mother’s face, Viktor found himself holding his breath. Blood thrumming against his eardrums and heart pounding hard in his chest, he was certain he could physically feel the air in the room come to a standstill as Ludmila stared at her husband, and the only thing keeping Viktor on ground-level was Yuuri’s arms, both of them, around his waist. Unconsciously, he leaned back against the pillar behind him, seeking comfort in the familiar at the unknown happening before him.

Because not once in his life had he seen that expression on his mother’s face, and he had absolutely no clue what it actually was. How to describe it. Like trying to grasp air.

But while her expression was confusing to Viktor, she seemed less than confused herself. Slowly, very slowly, she finally opened her mouth to speak one word. Or rather, one name:

“Kolya?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *insert elaborate and vague explanation for the chapter, the universe and everything here*
> 
> It's barely Tuesday, so I'll count that as a win! :D But now, I'll have some sleep, and maybe if I'm lucky, I'll get to play some Pkmn UM tomorrow afternoon after work and afternoon classes before the evening lecture (it includes cheese and wine, it's fine, I'll live, maybe, but not on Thursday any longer). Chapter 16 hopefully towards the end of next week, work and studies are piling up like crazy right before the holidays...
> 
> Someone: is that another cliffhanger?
> 
> Me: ...goodnight! See you next week! *runs away*
> 
> *runs back with hugs and love* take care till then <3


	16. Puzzle Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pieces are added to the puzzle Viktor is attempting to lay in his head, but the missing ones are making it difficult to see the whole picture.  
> He does, however, have a few revelations. Most of them he'd rather not have, but there is still a light shining through all the darkness.

_Years earlier…_

”You will be branded with the Infernal Flame, and sentenced to a hundred years to the Prison of the Unclean Force.”

The moment the sound of the judge’s gavel echoed through the courtroom, Ludmila started sobbing beside Ilia, who felt his body go limp in a long exhale. Despite having her nose buried in an embroidered, silk handkerchief, Ludmila held a supporting hand on his back as relief hit Ilia like a tidal wave along with the meaning of the judge’s final words.

They were free.

Looking his ex in the eye had never been easier, though it still stung like a million needles to meet the blazing hatred attempting to pierce through the shield he had built around himself. The shield built from the will to go on. A defense he would never lower when he finally had found it.

The murderous glare was the last thing he saw before the door closed behind the dementors, and unfortunately, it hadn’t been directed at him. He reached for his fiancée’s hand to lace their fingers together.

“Are you okay, love?” he asked Ludmila quietly, as she gripped his hand so hard she could well have cut off the blood flow to his fingers, squeezing his heart painfully along with it. She met his gaze, silvery tears caught in her eyelashes and streaks of rosy red along her cheeks, but stunning blue eyes held nothing but determination and something akin to bewilderment.

“You’re asking _me?_ ” she sniffled in disbelief, drying her handkerchief before using it again, the tear tracks disappearing as she carefully restored her make-up, “You think I would bend and break for the daggers in that glare? Not in a million years, Ilyusha.” She placed the handkerchief in her purse and produced a pocket mirror to have a look at herself. Ilia didn’t fight the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, not when it came naturally.

If it was possible to love someone more than life… no, it _was_ possible to love someone more than life itself. At least, it was more than possible for him to love Ludmila that way. The way she had fought for him, headstrong and determined, not giving up even when she was next to alone in her quest, dead set on making him remember he loved her…

He could probably never repay her for that, and it had all been worth it. She had succeeded, after all. He had remembered her, and remembered he loved her. Looking back, it was an overwhelming realization, and one he hadn’t fully grasped yet.

“Shall we?” Ludmila spoke. Ilia offered her the smile that was already on his lips. She put it there, after all, so it was hers to be given.

“Of course.”

They rose from their seats and excused themselves from all the people approaching them to congratulate them for the success of their hard work (Ilia felt all that praise should have been given his fiancée, not the both of them equally). While quickly but politely thanking people left and right, they made their way over to the one person who, in the end, had made it all possible. The only one who had believed Ludmila and the Tracker.

The one who had not only listened, but understood.

“Your Honor!”

The old man turned around to offer them a tired smile, gesturing to the door he had just opened. An invitation for a conversation behind a closed door, and an invitation to escape the bustle of the courtroom.

“No need for such formalities, Ludmila.” Judge Plisetsky spoke as the door closed behind them with a soft ‘click’. “We’re long since past that point. It’s Kolya to you.”

“Thank you.” Ilia told him for at least the hundredth time in the span of a month, but for the first time in actual, albeit shocked, relief. “For everything.” He didn’t notice his hands were shaking before Ludmila gently started running her thumb over the back of his right one.

Kolya smiled, somewhat bittersweet, wrinkling his old featured further. Without a word, he produced his wand, summoning a bottle of clear vodka and three small glasses, offering them the drink. The raw, hard liquor burned in Ilia’s dry, sore throat, stinging oddly pleasantly and unbearably painfully at the same time, grounding him. He coughed, and was soon followed by his fiancée and the judge, probably not being the only one to have gone without a glass of water since the early morning.

“I serve the law.” Kolya reminded them solemnly once he had stopped coughing. “I do what I find to be right, and you had more than enough evidence to convince me this was the right thing to do.” He refilled his glass, shaking his head. “Though, if you ask my person opinion, a hundred years is not enough for a crime like this.”

Ilia felt Ludmila’s eyes on him and exchanged a quick glance with her, quick and discreet. Could the rumors be…?

“I know you’ve heard.” The judge spoke before they had the time to finish their silent conversation. “About my daughter.” He downed another glass.

The silence that followed was so thing it could have been sliced in half with a knife. Ilia squeezed his fiancée’s hand as he felt her grip tighten, waiting for Kolya to either speak or ask them to leave.

He did the former.

“She’s due to deliver in March.” He said, filling his glass a third time, tears that he fruitlessly attempted to hold back getting stuck in his beard. “And I swear on my soul I’ll keep that child safe till the day I die. Protect it like I failed to protect my daughter.” He downed the glass and tossed it into the roaring fire in the fireplace, eyes filled with anger and regret.

“When I find the person who… who _did_ that to her, I won’t hesitate to break the law and turn myself in for it.”

 

_Present_

Yuuri could only admit to himself that he was worried. Very much so.

Ever since the night Yakov had been attacked by, a presumably unwilling, Yuri Plisetsky, the weight on Viktor’s shoulders only seemed to grow heavier, and no matter how much he claimed (and probably felt) Yuuri was his cliff in the storm, there was a looming threat above him, them, that Yuuri couldn’t erase. There were so many things going on inside Vikor’s head, Yuuri was genuinely terrified it would one day burst with the overload of information he was trying to process.

And all Yuuri could do was help him in his attempt to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

“So…” Viktor murmured into Yuuri’s shoulder, absentmindedly trailing circles along the sliver of skin on his chest that his bathrobe didn’t cover, which might have been distracting if Yuuri hadn’t been utterly focused on listening to Viktor’s troubled mind, “…Yuri’s grandfather was the judge that sentenced papa’s ex to _Tyur’ma Nechistoy Sily_ … and Yuri’s mother… Yuri is…” he trailed off. He didn’t need to fill in the blanks for Yuuri to understand.

It wasn’t the first time they talked about it, after all.

Yuri had chosen to stay at Hogwarts despite the incident, which resulted in him being under the constantly watchful eye of Professors Cialdini, Feltsman and Baranovskaya, as well as Minako and the Headmistress. “I have O.W.L.:s coming up!” he had protested angrily, “I’ll keep Potya with me at all times, I swear!” Seeing as the kneazel hadn’t left his side since, he had kept that promise.

Yuuri hummed in understanding, nuzzling Viktor’s hair to take in the scent of his ridiculously expensive shampoo (that, frankly, smelled ridiculously nice). It was with utmost care he chose his words before finally deciding he had to voice the one thing he knew was haunting Viktor more than anything after the revelations in McGonagall’s office, but something Viktor had barely had the strength to scrape the surface of.

But it had to be processed. Seeing Viktor break under the weight of the world broke Yuuri’s heart, and while he usually waited for Viktor to take the step to talk about what was on his mind, he had to draw the line for them both.

Because, in truth, Yuuri really needed to talk about it, too.

“You know what it means, don’t you?” he whispered, careful, quiet. Viktor momentarily stilled, fingertip lightly resting square in the middle of Yuuri’s chest. He must have felt Yuuri holding his breath. He felt more than heard Viktor swallow thickly beside him in turn.

“Yes.” Was the reply, a little shaky, but he was apparently not going to deny the truth staring him in the eye. “I… I understood better then. What Mama meant. About me being an only child.”

Yuuri willed the stinging in the back of his eyes to stay there, keeping tears at bay the best he could as he pressed a kiss to Viktor’s forehead. Viktor shifted closer and Yuuri helped, tightening the grip around his back, silent sorrow materializing onto he fabric of his robe as he let Viktor cry.

When he had realized it himself, when Viktor’s parents had told them about Judge Plisetsky and his daughter, Yuuri hadn’t wanted to believe it. He still didn’t want to, but it was right there, the truth staring him in the face. And it had suddenly became very, very clear why Ilia and Ludmila didn’t wish to face the demons of their past.

Their and Viktor’s.

Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed, heart clenching painfully in his chest. The thought made him nauseous to the point where the room would spin and black spots appear in front of his eyes. Understanding that Viktor had, in fact, _already been born_ when his father was subjected to Amortentia was unfathomably heartbreaking. Well, maybe he hadn’t been born yet when it happened, but if he hadn’t, he had been born without his father there to witness it.

If Ilia hadn’t been present at Viktor’s birth… Yuuri couldn’t imagine how much that probably pained him to this day.

And he could never in a million years imagine what it must have been like to be in Ludmila’s shoes back then. Left alone, possibly highly pregnant, possibly already the mother of a newborn child, finding out that her fiancé and the father of her child had been stolen away from her with a powerful love potion…

Yuuri had really struggled to keep the contents of his stomach down when he did the math. He still did whenever he thought about it.

“The sentence for using Amortentia in Russia is fifty years, I think.” Viktor murmured thickly, pulling Yuuri out of his thoughts. “You don’t think… the extension… was added partially because…?”

_…because I had been robbed of my father._

Yuuri was certain Viktor was right. That part of the extension came from the fact that a small child had been robbed of their parent against that parent’s will. The other reason they had come to a silent understanding not to voice aloud. It was spoken in the sound of silence instead.

“Probably.” Yuuri settled for, gently stroking Viktor’s hair. “Or most likely, since your parents weren’t married back then. Before.”

“Yeah.” Viktor agreed, drying his tears with the back of his hand. “They married in 1990, a year and a half after I was born. They were to celebrate the 15-year anniversary of their union this summer, but… well, we had to flee the country.”

The sentence given to Ilia’s ex would probably had been harsher had Ilia and Ludmila been married when it happened, Yuuri figured. The Aurors would surely have seen it as sufficient evidence that something was wrong. But as they hadn’t been married, it probably looked like Ilia had fled the scene and headed back to his ex because he wasn’t ready to be a father, or something similar. Engaged or not.

“It was probably frowned upon.” Viktor guessed, as if reading Yuuri’s thoughts. “The fact that I was born before they got married, I mean. But maybe it somehow went forgotten due to everything else that happened. Mama just kept climbing the ladder, and so did papa, and as far as I understand, the case has been kept quiet. No one ever mentioned anything to me at Koldovstoretz, for example, but they all knew who I was because of my parents’ achievements, not because of their… dark past. But what do I know,” he shrugged, sighing, “maybe mama would be Minister for Magic already hadn’t it been for… everything.”

Somehow, Yuuri could very well imagine she would be. Glancing at the clock on the wall, however, there was a more pressing matter at hand.

“You need to sleep.” He told Viktor softly, kissing the crown of his head, silvery strands tickling him pleasantly as he did. “It’s past midnight.” Viktor made a noise of annoyance that Yuuri had learnt to interpret as _I can’t sleep_. “Do you want some Dreamless Sleep Potion?”

Viktor shook his head defiantly before shifting and climbing on top of Yuuri instead, leaning down to kiss him slowly, cheeks sticky from dried tears.

“No potion.” He insisted, untying the belt around his waist to let the magenta-colored, silk morning gown fall open. “You’re a much better option.”

Yuuri might have choked on his own spit, only able to nod dumbly as Viktor gave him a questioning look before untying the belt of Yuuri’s bathrobe in turn and leaning down to kiss him again. If Viktor’s intent had been to make all troubled thoughts fly away with the surely still whirling snow outside, he was succeeding very, very well.

So much better than a Dreamless Sleep Potion, indeed. And, if Yuuri was honest with himself, far better than any Draught of Peace he had ever managed to make.

 

Yuuri was a blessing. An angel surely sent from beyond the realms of the known world to watch over Viktor.

Then again, Viktor did hope he wasn’t actually that kind of angel, because then he would probably have to depart when his task was finished, and Viktor wasn’t going to be able to survive that heartbreak. So even if he didn’t exactly hope Yuuri was that kind of magical being, he knew him to be angelic enough to be one.

Without Yuuri, it would be impossible for Viktor to process everything going on inside his head. Without Yuuri, it would have been impossible to face some of the most horrible truths Viktor had ever had to look in the eye. And without Yuuri, Viktor would have lost his mind eons ago.

As it was, though, he was still standing, and it was solely because Yuuri was there to keep him upright. Well, as far as he was concerned anyway.

“ _Petrificus Totalus!_ ”

He should probably concentrate a bit, coming to think of it.

_Protego!_

JJ’s spell bounced off the invisible shield and hit the ceiling.

“We’re practicing _nonverbal_ spells, Mr. Leroy!” Professor Cialdini reminded the Slytherin Quidditch Captain over the dueling students, “That goes for you, too, Miss Entwhistle, and I did see your lips moving, Mr. van Burm!”

The Gryffindor Beater cringed slightly at the mention of his name, but still grinned sheepishly at Sherwood, who happened to be his dueling partner. Sherwood looked like he was trying to contain himself from laughing them both into the next century, and it sounded like they were mocking each other for looking constipated in their attempts to perform anything more exciting than _Lumos_ with their mouths shut tight.

Distracted by the scene and by his own thoughts, Viktor realized all too late that JJ somehow had managed to perform the Full Body-Binding curse nonverbally, seeing the spell shooting out of his opponent’s wand in the corner of his eye.

In a moment of panic, Viktor didn’t have time to think _Protego_ , and even less to actually manage the correct wand movement.

And then remembering he didn’t have to.

The curse bounced off him at a meter’s distance, shooting straight back towards JJ, which it shouldn’t have been able to do had it hit a regular _Protego_ shield. _Protego_ always made spells bounce off as if they hit an invisible sphere, sending them away at an angle, usually making them fly over the head of the caster.

But Yuuri’s spell didn’t work like a Protego shield. No, it apparently made spells, curses, fly back straight towards their casters. Hence, the _Petrificus Totalus_ hit a shocked JJ straight in the chest. His body went rigid, legs gluing together and his arms sticking to his sides as he fell backwards onto the fluffy pillows behind him.

That was when Viktor finally snapped out of it and rushed over to his dueling partner, waving his wand in a hurried _Finite Incantatem_ as he kneeled down beside the Slytherin.

“I’m so sorry!” he apologized, because he really couldn’t think of anything else to say. JJ chuckled good-naturedly, waving it off as he sat up.

“If that was a _Protego_ , it was a damned impressive one.” He commented, taking Viktor’s offered hand and stood up, waving across the room to a worried Isabella that he was fine. “It bounced _straight_ back towards me. Usually they just fly up or hit the ground or something.”

“Perhaps it was a _Protego Horribilis_ , Mr. Nikiforov?” Professor Cialdini asked as he came up to them, discreetly giving Viktor a meaning look, “There’s a higher chance of the spell turning against its caster if you use _Protego Horribilis_ instead of _Protego_.”

Viktor caught on quickly, and nodded readily, keeping a straight face despite his internal bewilderment.

“Yes, sir, I used _Protego Horribilis_. I didn’t know if _Protego_ alone would protect from an actual curse.”

Professor Cialdini nodded, “Good thinking. Well, that’s five points to Slytherin, and five to Ravenclaw.”

JJ’s jaw dropped, “What for, Professor?”

Cialdini chuckled, “It was your first nonverbal spell that was fully successful in this class, Mr. Leroy. That’s why.”

“Then why five to Ravenclaw?” Viktor asked, utterly confused. Cialdini must have known he hadn’t actually performed a _Protego Horribilis_ , and he wasn’t going to accept points for something he didn’t do. “Sir? I’ve done it before.”

“For showing solidarity and helping your fellow classmate.” Cialdini replied easily. “I didn’t have to come over to do anything, because you did it all yourself. Kindness and support should always be rewarded.”

 

Yuuri’s spell.

Viktor sighed slightly as he slowly stirred his euphoria-inducing elixir. As if there wasn’t a whole load of new and heavy information for him to take in during the weeks that followed the winter break, there was also Yuuri’s spell. He had barely had time to think about it properly for the past weeks, since the night Yakov got attacked, but it was always _there_. Protecting him at all times.

Yuuri had made it perfectly clear he wasn’t going to reverse the outer layer even when they were alone in the Room of Requirement any longer, not until it was certain Inferno was no longer a threat. Hence, Viktor’s DADA-lessons with Yuuri looked a bit different in comparison to how they had gone about them during the autumn months.

Instead of focusing on teaching Viktor defensive spells, Yuuri taught him how to use offensive spells as defense, and that was about as hard as Viktor had feared it would be. Still, he made more progress with using _Lumos Maxima_ to blind Yuuri and get the upper hand in a duel than Chris did with his Occlumency.

Which, simply put, wasn’t going very well.

“One more time, please!” Chris had begged Yuuri after he had been subjected to Legilimency the first time around, “One more time, Yuuri, I’ve got this!”

Yuuri had been all too worried about Chris’ poor brain to do so, telling him to get some rest so they could try again a few days later. Chris might have been able to momentarily fight against Veritaserum, but it was obviously much harder to fight mentally against Yuuri penetrating his mind.

Noticing his elixir had turned into the desired color of yellow, Viktor stopped stirring, checking that the potion looked and smelled correctly before grabbing the vial beside him to bottle a sample up for Yakov to have a look at. It seemed he was once again among the first to finish work, this time coming in second after Mizuho, who was already sealing her own vial with bright yellow, perfectly made potion inside. Viktor labeled his vial with his name before handing it to Yakov for grading, then turned to head back to his work station to clean it up.

He made it halfway when many things happened all at once.

First, there was a loud bang, followed by startled shrieks. Then a heavy ‘thud’ as someone fell to the floor in shock.

“Viktor, look out!” Mila shouted in panic.

Unfortunately, Viktor had no time to do anything but sidestep before the potion-gone-wrong splashed all over the table beside him. And all over his left arm.

The whole room came to a standstill.

Viktor stared at the table, or what was left of it as the wood disintegrated right before his eyes. Too many Porcupine Quills, his brain (un)helpfully supplied. The stone floor beneath was sizzling as the potion attempted to work its way through the tough material. The fabric of Viktor’s left sleeve crumbled and fell to the floor.

And his arm… was unharmed.

It took him a good ten seconds, or hours, to realize his arm was, indeed, completely unscathed. He felt a slight warmth that came with the potion and ran off him like it was afraid to be sitting on his bare skin, sliding down onto the floor without leaving a mark.

Viktor’s tired brain did not get the time to process what he was seeing, but fortunately, Yakov was quicker to understand what he had witnessed.

“Viktor, move over to the right, and everyone else stay right where you are.” He grunted, coming over with his wand in hand to check the damage and mend the innocent table. He fixed his gaze on Viktor. “You’re lucky I had the time to cast that protection charm on you just now, boy, or you would have a painful night or two to look forward to in the Hospital Wing.”

There was look of bewilderment in Yakov’s eyes, a subtle one, barely visible and only for a brief moment, but it was there. And Viktor understood, but couldn’t comprehend.

Yuuri’s spell. It was Yuuri’s spell again. Viktor imagined the amazement that flashed in Yakov’s eyes reflected in his own as well.

“Th-thank you, Professor.” He replied, voice shaking slightly beyond his control at the newfound extent of the wonder that was _Stammi Vicino_. “I’ll be more-“

“Don’t be silly, boy.” Yakov cut him off, gruffly but not unkindly, restoring Viktor’s robes while he was at it. “That wasn’t your potion exploding, and yes, that’s ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Crispino, for endangering the safety of your fellow students. You should know better at N.E.W.T.-level. Don’t worry, though, I had to give Katsuki twenty last time he was here because he _prevented_ a disaster like this from happening, thank Merlin and his beard.”

All done with Viktor’s sleeve, he crossed his arms over his chest, “Now, everyone who has some potion to hand in, get going. If you fail to do so, your essay is extended by two feet, and your default grade for your potion will be a D. You’re spared from T’s because as far as I can tell, no one in this classroom has been failing deliberately. Sometimes, though, I’ve got to admit it’s hard to tell. Get back to work!”

While everyone scrambled to get their potions done, and after Michele had come over to apologize to Viktor and ask if he was okay, Yakov pulled him a little to the side. He was given a stern, meaning look.

“In your essay, write a line about how it felt getting the potion poured over your arm.” He said in a low enough voice for people to understand it was a private conversation, but loud enough for them not to think it was anything of confidential nature. “I’m curious as to how my spell worked. I’ve never been an expert on defensive charms, so I’d like to know how I’m doing.”

_Find out how it’s possible you still have an arm._

Viktor nodded in understanding, heart pounding hard against his ribcage in post-shock and bewilderment as he replied:

“Yes, Professor.”

 

“What really happened there?” Chris asked when he closed the dorm room door behind himself and Viktor, making sure Nate and Sherwood were occupied elsewhere during their free period before bringing it up, “That wasn’t Yakov casting a spell, was it? It was that spell you told me about back in McGonagall’s office, right? Yuuri’s spell.”

Viktor nodded slowly, sinking down onto the soft covers of his bed.

“It can’t have been anything else, no.” He agreed as Chris sat down next to him, Pearl jumping up into his lap for attention. “The potion just… ran right off me, didn’t even stick, when it surely should have disintegrated my arm to the bone…”

“I don’t like the image you’re painting in my head right now.” Chris admitted with a disgusted grimace.

“…but I felt _nothing_.” Viktor continued, examining his left arm, absolutely certain the illusion would soon shatter to reveal it burnt and broken. “A little warmth, nothing else.” He experimentally opened and closed his hand into a fist. “I… I somehow didn’t think… I thought it warded off spells… curses…” he trailed off, his train of thought forging on in silence.

Apparently, the lack of verbal communication didn’t stop Chris from listening.

“Ask him.” He more suggested than demanded, nudging Viktor’s arm. “Ask Yuuri. I’m sure he’ll tell you if you just ask.”

Viktor had no argument against that.

 

Unfortunately, Viktor had to wait until evening before he got the chance to ask Yuuri. During lunch, they didn’t have enough alone time together for him to bring it up, and after classes, Yuuri had Quidditch practice with the Gryffindor team. It was only when they returned from the pitch that Viktor saw his chance and took it, managing to get Yuuri all to himself by joining him for a bath in the Prefects’ bathroom.

However, he didn’t get the chance to ask before Yuuri brought it up himself.

“What happened this morning?” he asked once they were comfortably settled in the warm water, catching Viktor off guard momentarily, “You said nothing at lunch, so I figured you wanted to wait to talk about it. It was brief, and scorching hot, but it didn’t last, and I got no signal that would indicate you were under any major threat. It was your left arm.” He added, running his hand down said arm, leaning down to kiss Viktor’s shoulder. “What was it?”

Viktor couldn’t stop his jaw from slackening in surprise. He would soon tell Yuuri all about it, but there was one tiny detail…

“…scorching hot?” he asked quietly, trying to understand what Yuuri was saying, “It felt scorching hot… to you?”

Yuuri paused his movement for a second, hand stilling on Viktor’s arm.

“…yes.” The Gryffindor replied slowly, resuming his ministrations, albeit at a slower pace than before. “It stung, like I had been scalded, but it was over as soon as it begun. Why?”

‘Why?’ wasn’t the right question. The real question, in Viktor’s mind, was _‘how?’_.

“Because…” Viktor turned around to look into dark, chestnut eyes filled with confusion and worry, “…because that’s what I thought I _should_ have felt. But all I felt was a little warmth, and mostly nothing at all. Mickey’s potion went wrong, you see; too many Porcupine Quills. His cauldron exploded, and the solution disintegrated the table, some of the floor, and the left sleeve of my robes. My arm made it intact, though.”

Understanding and bewilderment flashed in the depths of Yuuri’s chocolate orbs.

“Now I understand what Mickey meant when he came up to me before practice and told me was sorry and that it really was an accident, but when I asked further about it, he thought it better you tell me rather than I’d hear It from him.” Then, he frowned. “But… you really felt nothing? No sting? No burn?”

“Only a little warmth, nothing more.” Viktor confirmed, pulling his left arm out of the water to show it off to Yuuri. “I’m completely unscathed.”

Yuuri was silent for several moments that could have been years, Viktor wasn’t entirely sure, but the silence seemed to stretch out into forever. Slowly, very slowly, Yuuri opened his mouth, then closed it again, chasing words until he found something to hold onto.

“Oh, wow.” He murmured in something that Viktor could only describe as amazed disbelief. “It… it’s getting stronger.”

As Viktor should have guessed, and deep inside had done, Yuuri Katsuki once again proved to be completely unaware of just how powerful a spell he had created, and how much that power seemed to grow along with the increasing affection between them. Heart swelling to achingly impossible sizes at the thought, Viktor turned around fully in the water to kiss Yuuri’s cheek, then his lips, wrapping his arms around the Gryffindor’s neck.

“If that is how it works,” he murmured against soft, inviting lips, arching his back when Yuuri’s hands found his hips to pull him closer still, “then I bet I could jump from the Astronomy Tower and land on the ground without a scratch by now.”

Yuuri gave up an involuntary laugh at that, kissing Viktor right back, melting him into an undefined puddle of goo in strong arms.

“While I would be very happy to find you surviving something so horrible,” he agreed, turning them around to settle Viktor’s back against the side of the enormous tub, pinning him there, “let’s hope it doesn’t extend to prevent me from leaving those marks I’d very much like to stay on you.”

A pleasant shudder ran up Viktor’s spine at the mental image as Yuuri tenderly kissed one such mark he had left only the day before on his collarbone. He ran his hand up Yuuri’s back and entangled his fingers in growing, raven locks.

“It won’t.” He stated confidently, surprising both himself with his thoughts and Yuuri with his answer. “Because if I fell down from the Astronomy Tower, it would be because someone wished me harm. However, every mark you leave- _ah_ ,” he tilted his head back as Yuuri very deliberately sucked another one onto porcelain skin, not quite able to suppress a gasped-out moan at the delicious feeling, “is made with love.”

 

**

 

“Is this about what I think it is about?”

“We would ask you to come with us, Mr. Plisetsky. We have questions about the Amortentia-case back in-“

“1989. Ilia Nikiforov.” The old man sighed as he rose from his armchair, cracking his back and giving the Aurors a tired, sorrowful smile. “It’s been quite a few years since then, hasn’t it? Please, lead the way, Mr. Potter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not sorry about the cliffhangers. And the next chapter will bring a Quidditch game and... something big. Really big. Imagine the previous sentence written in capital letters.
> 
> I'll take the time to reply to comments soon, possibly later tonight (if I manage to stay awake). Maybe I'll get some sleep for Christmas...
> 
> Oh, and wherever you celebrate such a thing, happy Lillajul! (means Little Christmas) And if you don't, you should still have a happy day ^.^ <3 please accept these hugs and make sure to share them with your loved ones! *bucketfuls of hugs*


	17. Parting Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playing Quidditch in Merlin-forsaken weather brings silent thoughts to the surface.
> 
> And Ilia is handed a piece of news he never wanted.

Viktor’s warm breath turned into puffs of white in the crisp January afternoon as he hovered high up in the air, looking for the Snitch and attempting to stay warm. The sun was slowly making its way towards the horizon, and the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team had been training hard since the last classes in the afternoon.

Hence, Viktor was starting to get very hungry, and also very cold. The Chasers and the Beaters got to move about, throwing the Quaffle and bashing Bludgers left and right, and even Seung-Gil in front of the goal posts got to take some part in the action, but all Viktor could do was keep an eye out for the elusive little devil that was the Snitch.

Maybe his teammates thought Viktor immune to the cold (“You’re Russian!”), but that was a sore misconception. Koldovstoretz might have been situated just on the other side of the mountains from the tundra in northern Siberia, but that didn’t mean he ever learned to like the cold. Handle it, sure, but not like it.

“We’ve got fifteen minutes left, come on!” Sara shouted, catching the Quaffle from Chris and throwing it with a spin, which required Seung-Gil to fly quickly to the side to prevent I t from going through the right-most hoop, barely managing the save with his fingertips.

Viktor muttered curses in his mother-tongue under his breath, did a loop and resumed circling the court to do at least something, keeping an eye out for the Snitch. Fortunately, it didn’t take him long to find the flutterbastard hovering right above the Hufflepuff stands, and he wasted no time laying himself flat on his trusted Firebolt to go after it. Seconds later, he was holding the damned ball tightly in his fist. Again. For what felt like the twentieth time that afternoon.

He released it and had time to repeat the process twice more before Sara finally, _finally_ blew the whistle for cool-downs. As Viktor was mostly freezing, he quickly did a couple of laps around the pitch before landing beside the changing room, placing the Snitch in the box of practice equipment right inside the door as he headed inside.

“ _La vache_ , it’s freezing!” Chris shivered as he entered directly behind Viktor, reaching for his cloak from the hanger to wrap it around himself, fumbling for his wand to warm his clothes. Viktor couldn’t help the huff as he did the same thing, though it was in good nature.

“At least you’ve been throwing a ball around.” He reminded his friend, jumping and down on the spot as he willed his newly warmed clothes to actually stay warm. “I haven’t even had to dodge Bludgers today.”

“We’d better bundle up properly for our game against Hufflepuff on Saturday.” Seung-Gil seconded, warming his clothes before peeling off his Keeper-gloves to change into the leather ones that he favored.

“Your boyfriend wouldn’t happen to have some miracle spell up his sleeve we could use to keep us warm for an entire game?” Hilary asked Viktor with clattering teeth, accepting the helping gesture from Chris, who warmed her clothes since he was still holding his wand.

Viktor offered an apologetic smile, shaking his head, “He doesn’t, I’m afraid. The Heat-Wave spell is the best we’ve got.”

“But it doesn’t last!” Hilary lamented sinking down onto the bench, bundling up in her thick, black coat, “How did you stay warm in Siberia, then?”

Warming his gloves before pulling them on, Viktor hummed, “Well, whenever we crossed the mountains to the tundra north of Koldovstoretz, we bottled up fire in vials that we placed inside our clothes to withstand the cold for longer. I wouldn’t necessarily recommend it during Quidditch, though, as they might hinder movement quite a bit.”

“And they might break.” Sherwood figured.

“Not if they’re imbued with Unbreakable Charms, I’d gather.” Louis pointed out.

“All right, eyes and ears my way!” Sara demanded as she wrapped her own coat around her and warmed her clothes, walking to stand in front of them, “We want to get this over with quick, so we can head back to the castle for a nice, hot bath.”

A hot bath sounded more than just nice to Viktor. A hot bath and Yuuri sounded even better.

“If Leroy hasn’t changed tactics much since Slytherin’s game against Gryffindor, we’ve got this one in the bag,” Sara spoke confidently, “but that doesn’t mean we can cut some slack. On the contrary, we’re going to work harder than ever for those points, because if we don’t we’ll have to accept the fact that there’s no way for us to catch up with Gryffindor.” Her grip on her precious Cleansweep Eleven tightened.

“But we’re not throwing in the towel just yet, because we can and we will give Gryffindor a real and proper challenge.” She narrowed her eyes. “This is our second and last chance to close in on Gryffindor before we have to face them in May. Let’s give it our all and more.”

Viktor sorely wanted to believe her.

Hence, he decided to try and shake Yuuri’s confidence a bit later that evening, when the Head Boy joined him in the Room of Requirement after his nightly rounds.

“You know,” Viktor spoke, tilting his head to expose his long neck, legs crossed and leaning back on his hands on the bed, smirking, “Gryffindor isn’t winning the Quidditch Cup this year.”

A beat passed. Yuuri lifted his gaze to look at him.

That one gaze sent all the previous confidence running off him to hide beneath the bed, because Yuuri’s cinnamon-hued eyes twinkled dangerously, lips almost lazily stretching into a devastating smirk. Viktor’s heart surged up into his throat as the Gryffindor walked towards him, slowly, too casually, hips swaying just a little more than usual, resuming his quest to remove his shirt.

“Is that so?” he asked, voice smooth, slowly burning Viktor up from the inside as if Yuuri had poured Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey down his throat by merely speaking, and no, Viktor would never have guessed back in September that Yuuri had to regularly have some Draught of Peace to be able to keep his cool.

“Because, I think,” Yuuri continued, coming to stand in front of Viktor, pants still on but shirt discarded, placing a single finger beneath his chin to tilt his head up, “you’re sorely mistaken, sweetheart.”

Viktor’s cheeks were on fire.

Or, more accurately, his entire body was smoldering under Yuuri’s barely-there touch and piercing gaze. It was insanely difficult to keep composure with a person as fatally dangerous as Yuuri Katsuki so close, unfathomably hard to not willingly let the flames envelop him and swallow him whole. Viktor drew an embarrassingly shaky breath as he tried to find his tongue.

“You’re the one mistaken.”

Well, not exactly the words he had been hoping to speak, perhaps, but close enough to get the message through. He felt his cheeks heat up to a million and twenty degrees as Yuuri leaned down to look at him more closely, the smirk on his face shaping into an almost wicked grin.

Viktor could feel his heartbeat all the way down to his toes, feel it pulsing in his fingertips as he clutched the sheets.

“Oh, Vitya,” Yuuri spoke sweetly, and Viktor was by then certain he wasn’t going to survive the interaction, “I always thought you smart. Clever, even; a real Ravenclaw. But it seems I’m going to have to re-evaluate this misconception of mine, because if you think Ravenclaw can beat Gryffindor in Quidditch, you’re not only delusional, but stu-“

He was cut off mid-word by a fierce kiss before even Viktor himself realized he had grabbed the back of Yuuri’s head to pull him in. But since he was on it, he dragged Yuuri onto the bed and rolled them over to straddle him, glaring down at his unfairly attractive boyfriend with a pout and a frown in childish contempt.

“You’re underestimating us.” Viktor accused him. Unfortunately, Yuuri looked only slightly surprised and mostly amused, but it was gentle hands that cupped Viktor’s cheeks to pull him down for a sweet kiss.

“Want to know a secret ingredient in the art of winning?” he offered in a whisper, trailing a scorching fingertip along Viktor’s bare back, making him shiver, “Never underestimate your opponent. Ever.”

 

**

 

“ _Welcome to one hell of a morning, staff and students, and to the third round of Quidditch for the season-_ “

“You don’t need to SHOUT, Dinnet!”

“ _I can’t hear you over the wind, Professor!_ Anyhow, the wind is blowing like crazy, but Ravenclaw is meeting Slytherin today despite the fact that they’ll probably be blown straight into the Atlantic at this rate. So, if you want to place your bets on how long the game is going to last before Madame Hooch blows it off or Nikiforov catches the Snitch, it’s time to start checking your pockets for coins. I’m up for ten galleons on the latter, anyone interested?”

“She has great confidence in me for some reason.” Viktor commented, somewhat baffled, looking at the whirling snow outside. “I’m not going to be able to see a thing in this weather.”

“Plisetsky has insulted Thora a time too many for her to give him any support, and he has jinxed her after a particularly sore loss, too.” Seung-Gil informed him grumpily, glaring at the storm through the window. “He had spouted Russian at her once, and Thora asked Anya what it meant during Charms class. Anya didn’t even want to translate it for her, and I heard her shouting at Plisetsky later the same day.”

“Guys, we’re on!” Sara told them over her shoulder, “Ignore the weather; we can do this!”

Much easier said than done, Viktor thought bitterly as he followed Seung-Gil out onto the snow-covered pitch. He could barely head the audience over the beating wind, but he could hear Dinnet’s magically enhanced voice:

“…Seeker Viktor Nikiforov, and team captain, Chaser Sara Crispino! I have to confess it saddens me deeply that I can barely see these gorgeous people through all the snow even with omnioculars; five years as commentator and Hogwarts still hasn’t been able to provide me with a pair that eliminates the effects of the weather. Oh, well, no more time to lament, because Slytherin is slithering onto the field at the moment with Chasers Georgi Popovich, Sylvia Melville, and Archana Shetty…”

It was worrying to Viktor that he could feel his ponytail whipping behind him in the wind even with both feet planted firmly on the ground. It was always hard to spot the Snitch in the snow, because either it disappeared in the falling flakes, or then it camouflaged itself to blend in with the reflection of the sun in the pearly white, making it practically invisible.

Even more worrying was the fact that the wind seemed to be picking up speed by the minute. Playing Quidditch at all was going to be a real feat.

“Captains, shake hands!” Madame Hooch demanded.

As Sara stepped forward to firmly shake JJ’s hand, Viktor caught Yuri looking at him with an unreadable expression. Or perhaps it was just hard to tell through all the whirling snow. There was the expected gleam of desire to prove himself a better Seeker than Viktor, but there was something else as well.

Doubt? Hesitance? Contemplation?

“Mount your brooms!”

Focus.

The pelting snow was stinging like needles on his bare cheeks as Viktor rose into the air to take his position opposite Yuri. Through the haze of whirling white, he could barely see the boy, but somehow, he would have to look out for both him and the Snitch during the entire game.

That, he knew, wasn’t going to be easy.

In the distance, he heard the whistle blow.

 

“It’s in unforgiving weather that Captain Crispino grabs the Quaffle long before Popovich figures out how to move his broom, and she goes straight for the Slytherin goal posts without delay, Shetty is coming for her but she passes to Gia-, _no_ , she doesn’t, what a brilliant diversion! It goes to Erskine instead, who sets a spin to the ball and _scores!_ Ten points to Ravenclaw right from the get-go, Leroy doesn’t stand a chance there, and Melville grabs the Quaffle…”

“Yuuri,” Phichit grabbed his attention away from the game by placing a hand on his shoulder, handing him his binoculars and pointing towards the Slytherin stands, “tell me if my eyes happen to deceive me, but is that _Anya?_ ”

“ _What?_ ” Mila gaped as Yuuri’s jaw slackened in surprise. It was definitely Anya, the permanently sour expression on her face unmistakable even through the veil of snow, bundled up in a thick coat between her dormmates Tabitha Bainbridge and Poornima Shah in the Slytherin stands.

Mila tugged the binoculars from Yuuri to have a look herself, a look of utter shock and disbelief on her face.

“It _is_ her! Why? And Georgi’s playing and all! She hasn’t come to see a single game since they broke up, and that’s, like, two years ago or something.”

“And they’re not exactly on speaking terms either, as far as I know.” Phichit gossiped, taking his binoculars back to have another look. “But it’s _definitely_ her.”

“Yuri mentioned she’s considering taking up dancing again, too.” Otabek spoke up, causing the entire Gryffindor Quidditch Team to turn to look at him, looking like a bunch of confused owls with their thick winter clothing and saucer-wide eyes.

All except Yuuri, who had gone back to watching the game, contemplating the mystery with a hum.

“Maybe it’s because it’s her last year.” He suggested, watching Viktor fly past the Gryffindor stands as he circled the pitch, looking for an impossibly small ball in the even more impossible weather. “Maybe she feels like she’s been missing out on things just because she’s been avoiding Georgi like Dragon Pox, and has decided it’s not going to hold her back any longer.”

“That’s a nice thought, but this is _Anya_ we’re talking about.” Phichit reminded him. “Coming to a Quidditch game and taking up dancing again would indicate she enjoys those things, which she does, but that’s not something she’s going to admit just like that, let alone this openly. She’s intent on hating everything Georgi likes, and I can’t see that changing anytime soon.”

“…and Popovich predictably loses the Quaffle to my lady Crispino, who’s zooming across the field, passing to Giacometti, who passes right back and away from Melville’s grabby hands, Crispino catches, back to Giacometti, over to Erskine, and _oh_ , that’s a close slip-up there but Shetty doesn’t manage to claim the ball as Erskine passes to Giacometti who scores another ten points for Ravenclaw! The eagle-ravens are in the lead with seventy points against a measly, ah, _zero_ for the snakes…”

“Is it just me, or has Minako-sensei possibly decided to open a bottle of Ogden’s and stopped caring about what Thora’s saying?” Yuuri pondered, amused, stretching his neck in a (fruitless) attempt to look over into the commentator’s booth.

“Considering it’s colder than in your darling Viktor’s home-country at the moment, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Phichit snickered.

“…it’s glaringly obvious that both Nikiforov and Plisetsky are having a hard time catching a glimpse of the Snitch in this impossible weather pulled straight out of Merlin’s ass-“

“ _Dinnet, mind your tongue!_ ”

“Oh, she’s still with us.” Kenjirou grinned as Phichit only laughed harder.

“You know what, you’re right, professor, I really don’t want any interaction between my tongue and Merlin’s ass.” Thora replied seriously. Phichit doubled over.

Judging by the odd movement Viktor did at that moment, Yuuri could have bet his Yajirushi that his boyfriend was laughing, too. A pleasant warmth filled his chest at the thought, and he made a mental note to thank Thora for her excellent commentary later.

Anything that could put a smile on Viktor’s face for the time being was a blessing.

 

“And there’s a maneuver not even the great Seung-Gil Lee can handle if he doesn’t want to lose his head, with two Bludgers aimed straight for his face and snow coming out of his nostrils at this point. Shetty scores Slytherin ten points, and the standings are now 90 to Ravenclaw against Slytherin’s 40, and Giacometti now grabs the Quaffle to hit those sought-after 100 points…”

“ _Oi_ , Nikiforov!”

Baffled, Viktor turned around in the air just in time to realize there was a Bludger heading his way, and he instinctively performed a Sloth Grip Roll to avoid being hit in the stomach. Yuri caught up with him and stopped close enough so that he wouldn’t have to scream his lungs out, but still had to shout to make himself heard over the beating wind.

“The fuck are you flying around asleep for?” he scowled angrily, as if Viktor not noticing the Bludger had been a personal insult against him, “Listen, you airhead, I don’t know what the hell you were pulling in that Hufflepuff-game, and that stunt might have worked on Ji, but it’s not going to work on me.” He sniffled, nose runny, wiping it angrily with his sleeve. “Is there anything you can do without Katsuki holding your hand? Get a grip, loser!”

He zoomed right past Vktor a second later without any further explanation to his actions.

Viktor quickly whipped around to make sure Yuri hadn’t suddenly spotted the Snitch and gone after it, but apparently, he hadn’t. He had just gone back to circling the pitch, looking for the golden little ball.

Well, he might have had a point, Viktor figured as he resumed his own path around the field, keeping his eyes with him to avoid Bludgers while looking for the Snitch. For the time being, at least, there was very little Viktor felt capable of handling without Yuuri’s support, without Yuuri’s steady shoulder to lean on when his head felt heavy with all the thoughts flying around in it, attempting to arrange themselves to make any sense.

It had been on his mind back and forth for the past month or two, but every time he considered bringing up his worries, he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Couldn’t stand the thought of Yuuri misunderstanding what he was trying to ask.

Because, truth was, he _needed_ Yuuri. He relied heavily on him for support and, though at first unknowingly, for protection. And that sparked the question…

…what did _Yuuri_ need?

Why had he cast _Stammi Vicino_ on Viktor? Why did he allow Viktor to cling to him like a lifeline, why did he answer to Viktor’s every beck and call, why did he allow Viktor to take away pretty much all his spare time?

There were days when Viktor wondered how Phichit felt about it all, being Yuuri’s best friend and surely not seeing him as much in private as he used to any longer. Did he feel like Viktor had stolen Yuuri from him, maybe? Then again, Phichit was always kind to him, always smiling, and he also seemed very happy to stay in the library to study with Seung-Gil when Chris and Louis excused themselves on their part, and Viktor and Yuuri on theirs.

He hadn’t dared ask Seung-Gil about it, but it was obvious he had a soft spot for the Gryffindor Seeker. That was, if the way he hadn’t stopped glaring at Yuri ever since he kicked Phichit in the ribs during the opening Quidditch game was any indication at all.

“Giacometti scores ten points for Ravenclaw, which means they now hold a whopping 140 points to Slytherin’s 40! Keeper Lee has definitely recovered from the rocky start, and with Beater Arnet on the mission to keep the Bludgers away from him, Ravenclaw continues to score and Slytherin continues to lose the Quidditch Cup. Yuri Plisetsky shows his angry side – actually, that’s his only side – by screaming at Captain Leroy, who in turn is shouting at his Chasers, probably telling them to get a grip. He could use a grip himself, seeing as the Quaffle seems to slip from his grasp time and time again, which is probably why Plisestky’s cursing him…”

The whistle blowing for a time-out had seldom sounded sweeter in Viktor’s ears.

 

“After Hilary’s goal, we’re in the lead with 170 points to 40.” Sara informed the team once they had all been handed enormous, warm pumpkin pasties and large mugs of hot chocolate. Viktor gripped the steaming pasty with both hands, sure to burn his tongue as he devoured it in large bites, not having realized how hungry he was until then.

Sara turned to him, “Catch the Snitch when you see it, okay? As the scores are now, we might have a sliver of a chance to beat Gryffindor to the trophy, but that depends heavily on how they do against Hufflepuff. So, we’ll give it our all today and hope the odds to be in our favor.” There was a glimmer of confidence in her eyes, the tiniest hint of a smile on her face.

“All right, let’s prepare a bit,” she finally stated as she had gulped down her hot chocolate, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, “Louis, continue defending Seung-Gil against those Bludgers, and Sherwood, you make sure Viktor’s safe from them, yeah? We’ll continue making as many goals as we can, but the Chasers are not priority for you now. Okay?”

Viktor nodded as he emptied his mug of pleasantly hot chocolate, swallowing the last drop just as Madame Hooch blew the whistle twice to signal the time-out was over and that they were expected to take their aerial positions again.

“Let’s do this.” Sara spoke confidently, grabbing her broomstick. “Let’s take one step closer to that trophy.”

 

“Attention, Hogwarts, the reports from the audience survey are in, and I can reveal that just about three quarters of the entire student body would be elated if Seeker Viktor Nikiforov could just catch the Snitch already so we all could head inside for some warmth-“

“If you haven’t noticed, Dinnet, there are _two_ Seekers on the field!”

“Ah yes, there’s the foul-mouthed brat who sent me to the Hospital Wing with leeks growing out of my ears, and then there’s Katsuki’s future husband. Frankly, professor, I know exactly which one I’m inclined to cheer for.”

Yuuri choked on his tea and coughed half of it back up, cheeks burning as he tried regaining composure. Phichit and Mila looked like summer vacation had some early, doubling over with laughter at his embarrassment, while the entirety of the Gryffindor house did look ever so unsubtly amused. He could have sworn he heard his fellow seventh-year Prefect, Trinity Lynn, giggling behind him.

“Yuuuuuri!” Phichit clutched his chest as his grin only widened, feigning hurt, “Whenever did you propose to the love of your life, and why oh _why_ haven’t you told me? I was under the illusion we were friends; I even got started on my best-man speech!”

“I haven’t proposed!” Yuuri squeaked once he found his voice.

_Yet_ , his brain unhelpfully supplied, because he couldn’t deny he hadn’t thought about it. Hence, the glare he attempted to give his best friend was a half-hearted one at best.

“Oh?” Mila grinned, winking at him, “Does that mean _Viktor_ has?”

Yuuri gaped at her.

“Wha-? No!” he shook his head frantically, only getting more laughter from his teammates.

Had Viktor thought about it? Proposal? Marriage? There was no denying Viktor was a romantic, but with everything else going on…

“If my eyes don’t deceive me, it appears both Nikiforov _and_ Katsuki are blushing at the moment; what a sight to behold. I expect to be invited to the wedding, lovebirds!

“Popovich is going to the Ravenclaw goal posts, passes to Shetty who directs the Quaffle to the left an-, _ahaa!_ Not today, because Keeper Lee is back in full swing and he’s more effective than a _Protego Maxima_ , hitting the Quaffle with the end of his broomstick towards Crispino who catches it _beautifully_ – are you watching this, Babicheva? – and here comes the Ravenclaw rendition of a Woollongong Shimmy, with Giacometti, Crispino, Erskine, Crispino, Erskine, Giacometti…”

“I’m watching closely, Thora.” Mila assured, tapping a gloved finger against her lips. “And they’re not as fast as us. The weather plays its part, sure, but so do their broomsticks. Sara’s got the fastest broom out of them, and that’s a Cleansweep Eleven, while we’re equipped with a Yajirushi, a Nimbus 2002 and my Cleansweep Twelve.”

“Crispino _scores_ , what a goal! Even Leroy looks impressed, and I’ve got to hand it to him, at least he appreciates a good game; and Ravenclaw is in a definite lead with 210 to a tragical 40. This is starting to look like the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin-game all over again, and at this rate, the snakes are going to draw the short straw against my darling Hufflepuff’s too.”

Yuuri grabbed Phichit’s binoculars without a word, startling his best friend.

“What is it?” he asked, slightly frightened and a mostly confused.

“Sorry.” Yuuri apologized, almost as an afterthought. “Viktor’s spotted the Snitch.”

 

“Look at that boy _go!_ Nikiforov is defying the weather and Merlin’s beard with that speed, I can barely see him as he aims for the Snitch, which I actually _can’t_ see, but apparently, he can, and I have no idea how, but it’s fucking amazing-“

“Dinnet, for Merlin’s sake!”

“Right, _freaking_ amazing, then. Plisetsky seems to be following Nikiforov blindly, perhaps he has just as good an idea of where the Snitch is as I do…”

Viktor wouldn’t have been surprised if Dinnet happened to be right about that, because it was pure luck that he had been able to spot the tiny, golden ball at all. He still would have no idea where it was if it hadn’t happened to fly right past his face, almost scratching his cheek with a sharp, silvery wing as it did. He locked his gaze onto it and let his broom do the work of keeping up with it while trying to figure out a way to actually catch it. His Firebolt was fast, sure, but the storm, the snow and the cold were against him, and to catch a ball who defied all those weather conditions, he had to be either lucky or clever.

And fearless.

Fearless…

In the corner of his eye, he saw Yuri trying to catch up to him. He was so close to the Snitch, but even lying flat on his broom, he wasn’t close enough.

He… could risk it, couldn’t he? Sure, he had freaked out when Phichit had done it, but…

He was well-protected, wasn’t he? It was better to just end the game, after all.

 

“Nikiforov is flat against his broomstick trying to reach for the Snitch in this unforgivable weather that is surely slowing him down, and I’ve finally managed to spot that elusive little ball so I can tell Nikiforov is very close but just out of reach, and Plisetsky is following but doesn’t seem to be able to catch u-, _what in the realm of rumbling Erumpents do you think you’re doing?!_ ”

Yuuri had his wand in hand before he could think, people stepping aside as he rushed to the railing. He had started moving the moment Viktor launched himself off his broom in a very Phichit-like manner, succeeding in grabbing the Snitch but not managing to grab onto his broom, the snow making the handle all too slippery for the stunt to work.

“What the bloody dementor, Viktor?” he cursed under his breath, doing a sweeping motion with his wand, pointing it towards his daredevil of a boyfriend.

_Stammi Vicino_ would surely have protected Viktor from imminent harm, of that, Yuuri was certain. At least after what had happened during Potions.

However, while Viktor probably would have felt like he had landed on a bunch of cushions…

Yuuri couldn’t help but cringe internally.

 

As Viktor had guessed, even as he did feel a bit guilty about the stunt he had pulled, he was soon enveloped by the feeling of being bundled up in a soft blanket, still several meters from the ground. He was gently lowered onto his feet, and he barely had time to look up before Sara threw her arms around her, scolding him even as she hugged him tightly, soon followed by the rest of the Ravenclaw team.

Including Chris, who handed him his broomstick.

“I can’t believe Nikiforov just pulled a Crazy Chulanont to catch the Snitch, and look at that confidence of _knowing_ his darling would save him from crashing to the ground – nice save, Katsuki! That’s an additional 150 points to Ravenclaw, leaving them with a staggering 360 points to Slytherin’s measly 40. _Ravenclaw wins_ , and Nikiforov owes his boyfriend for this; he must have given him a heart-attack!”

“You owe him at least an apology.” Chris told Viktor, serious even when there was a small smile on his face. “I agree with Thora; you might have placed his heart in his throat with that.”

Viktor looked up towards the Gryffindor stands, but he couldn’t make out any faces with the whirling snow veiling the world in grey and white. But surely, he would have been able to recognize Yuuri even then…

…his heart did sink at that. He hadn’t thought it all through that well, had he?

“Hey,” Chris caught his attention again, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as they walked towards the middle of the field to shake hands with the Slytherins, “Yuuri’s a Quidditch player, too. He’s played as Seeker, and he’s seen Phichit not only launch himself off his broom, but also seen him deliberately taking a Bludger square in the back just to catch the Snitch. He’s just worried because it’s _you_ , okay?”

It really wasn’t okay to Viktor. The lump building in his throat only tightened, got bigger, more painful, his heart clenching hard in his chest.

He forced a smile for everyone else but for Yuri, who for once wasn’t glaring daggers at him for some reason. Instead, he frowned deeply, gripping Viktor’s hand hard when their eyes met. Yet, he said nothing. No insults, no cursing, no threats.

Viktor was grateful for that, because he slowly, slowly came to the realization that…

…oh, Merlin.

He might have wanted to cry.

 

It was probably a good thing that half the Ravenclaw house was waiting for the team outside the changing rooms when Sara was finally done with her post-game speech, because that meant Viktor could disappear into the crowd to find Yuuri. Or at least look for him.

He had to be there, right? Viktor thought in increasing panic, seeing no sign of a red and golden scarf among all the blue and bronze ones. He had to be-

From seemingly nowhere came a firm hand to clutch Viktor’s upper arm, dragging him to the side before he could figure out what was going on. A glimpse of gold caught his eye as he finally managed to turn around.

“Yuu-“

“Viktor,” he was cut off immediately, not unkindly, even though there was no denying that Yuuri’s voice was pained, “in here.”

An old, wooden door was opened, and Viktor was dragged inside what had to be an old broom shed, dusty and seemingly unused since forever. The wind made the worn wood rattle, but although the shed had probably seen better days, it still provided some protection from the weather.

There was no protecting Viktor from the look on Yuuri’s face, though.

It looked like he was about to speak, but Viktor had to get one single thing off his chest immediately, or he wouldn’t be able to even meet Yuuri’s gaze ever again. Or in at least a month.

“I’m sorry!” he blurted out, and oh, that was a sob and that was definitely droplets of salt stinging his cold cheeks, “I’m sorry, Yuuri, I’m sorry, I swear-“

His breath hitched, words getting stuck in his throat as Yuuri frowned. That wasn’t a look he wanted to see on Yuuri’s face, especially not with all the conflicting emotions flickering in his dark eyes at the same time.

He pursed his lips before letting out a long sigh.

“Please explain.”

Viktor didn’t manage to hold back a sob when it so obviously looked like Yuuri was swallowing back words of his own in favor of hearing Viktor out, and no, he did not deserve this person, this wondrous wizard that would hand him the world should Viktor ask. Especially not after what he had just so unthinkingly, selfishly, done.

Viktor’s hands curled into tight fists beyond his control as he swallowed thickly, trying to find his tongue again.

“I didn’t think it through.” He spoke, voice uncharacteristically meek even to his own ears, fragile like glass on the verge of breaking. “I just… wanted to end the game, and the Snitch was just out of reach, the weather was against me, I…” he inhaled deeply, “I had hoped to get a hold of my broom, but I slipped. And I thought, before I did it, that if I were to fall…” he couldn’t look at Yuuri, finding it impossible, choosing to squeeze his eyes shut instead as tears streamed down his cheeks, prickling like needles on his sensitive skin.

“I thought I’d be okay.” He confessed. “That I had protection and I would be fine either way. And I only realized afterwards…” his shoulders were shaking with each sob, knuckles whitening as he dug his nails into his palm, “…what taking the impact of the fall might have meant. For you.”

Yuuri’s grip on his arm tightened, and Viktor flinched, more in shame than actual pain. Because while borderline painful, the hold was grounding, and if Yuuri right then needed to squeeze some sense into Viktor while preventing blood from flowing to his fingers, Viktor wasn’t going to stop him. Anything to calm Yuuri down.

He barely had time to gasp as he was pulled forward into a tight embrace, held firmly against a warm, firm body that he knew as well as his own, if not better.

“While I can’t say that the thought of feeling how it would be like to have my spine crack in half sounds very appealing,” Yuuri stated, almost bluntly, and yes, Viktor was certain he deserved that punch in the gut that ripped a sob from him as he shakily wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s neck, “I will admit that the fear rushing over me when you jumped was far worse than that physical pain could have ever been. Protection or not,” his fingers dug into the fabric of Viktor’s robes, gripping him hard through the fabric, “don’t _ever_ do that again, unless your life depends on it.”

Viktor violently shook his head against Yuuri’s shoulder.

“I won’t.” He promised, believing it, knowing it to be true. “I swear I won’t.”

He stilled the motion when Yuuri’s hand settled on his neck, impossibly warm. It wasn’t the first time Viktor wondered if Yuuri had the ability to somehow defy the laws of magic, amazed by the fact that Yuuri’s hands, that surely should have been freezing cold as he had taken off his gloves and all, were as warm as if he had held a cup of hot chocolate seconds ago.

How? How was that possible? How was _Yuuri_ even possible?

“You’re cold.” Yuuri murmured, voice soft, and Viktor’s heart ached painfully in his chest as he let his thoughts fly away to leave him alone with Yuuri. “Let’s go inside, have a hot bath, and then celebrate.” Soft lips that by all reason and logic should have been cold, but weren’t, kissed Viktor’s temple, smiling against it. “Let’s face the inquiries of Thora’s… speculations together.”

How Yuuri managed to pull a smile and a laugh out of him right there and then was far beyond Viktor’s realm of understanding, but yet, a small laugh escaped his lips and his lips quirked upwards.

“What do we tell them, then?” he asked, reveling in the feeling of Yuuri warming up his freezing body, feeling like he was finally allowed to enjoy it at all. Yuuri laughed softly.

“Well, we should probably keep them guessing for now.”

 

**

 

“Mr. Potter?” Ilia blinked, marking the page and placing his book aside to stand up, glancing at the grandfather clock, “At this hour?” he furrowed his brows in concern, “Should I wake Lyusya? What’s going on?”

The auror’s expression was far more grim than Ilia had ever seen it before, and that couldn’t mean any good news.

“You may decide for yourself if you want to wake your wife or tell her yourself when she has gotten some rest, Mr. Nikiforov.” He spoke, handing Ilia a letter. “This just arrived from Russia, from the Prison of the Unclean Force.” His expression darkened further. “As you might know… an inspection is performed in the lower cells every ten years.”

Ilia’s heart dropped, and the letter almost along with it.

It couldn’t be… it _couldn’t be_ …

“No…” he whispered, shaking his head in denial, staring at the envelope in his hand, dreading its contents. Mr. Potter didn’t wait for him to read it at all.

“He wasn’t there, Mr. Nikiforov.” His worst nightmares confirmed in a single, short sentence. “There was a prison guard tied up and left there in his stead – the dementors knew no difference. He has escaped.”

“ _Nyet!_ ” Ilia wanted to deny it to the end of the world, sinking to his knees as they gave way beneath him, clutching the letter in his hand, the urge to rip it to shreds overwhelming, “He can’t have escaped, Mr. Potter, please, he _can’t!_ ”

“Mr. Nikiforov, he _has_.”

Dread, anger, fear, _rage_ …

Shaking as he was hit with a tidal wave of unpleasant emotions, Ilia pulled out the rumpled letter from the abused envelope with trembling hands, staring at the Cyrillic letters as if killing the words with his murderous gaze would undo them.

“That _bastard!_ ” he hissed through gritted teeth, opening and closing his free hand into a tight fist as he attempted to comprehend what he was reading, “He took me away from my fiancée, from my newborn _son_. He… he…”

_Drugged me. Took what he wanted. Made me think I loved him. Made me forget my family…_

“We have Nikolai Plisetsky under our protection now.” Mr. Potter informed him, which brought the tiniest, tiniest hint of relief to Ilia in his despair, even if it wasn’t much. “Please, Mr. Nikiforov,” the auror kneeled in front of him, holding his gaze even as there was a flicker of desperation in his green eyes, “tell me everything you can about him. Anything that could help us figure this out. Does he have children? Relatives? Anyone he could use as an accomplice?”

Ilia bit back tears by pure willpower. He refused, absolutely and completely, to cry for that bastard ever again. He drew a shaky breath.

“He always wanted children.” He replied, voice thin. “A child of his own, not an adopted one. Obviously, I wasn’t much help there, and when word came out Lyusya and I were expecting a baby… he got jealous. He drugged me, took me away, and I believe he tried to somehow get a child for us to care for… not that he ever got that far, I think.

“He was orphaned at young age, maybe Kolya told you that. And he longed for a family. He also… felt very strongly, always. No matter what feeling or emotion it was, he wore his heart on his sleeve for the world to see, but by the end of our relationship, right before I left him for Lyusya,” he shook his head, “I couldn’t tell the difference between feeling and… obsession any longer. He thought he owned me, the Amortentia-stunt proved that.

“I might have been too kind to him, too naïve to see what he really was,” Ilia admitted, for the first time aloud to himself and to anyone else, “because I saw a good man. A good man that had been thorn by an unfair world, and I wanted to be there for him. Heal the scars. We grew close over the years at Koldovstoretz, and one evening he… kissed me. I was thrilled, and I loved him, I know I did.” He sighed, shaking his head again.

“I stayed with him, and I can’t say I was unhappy. But then, I met Lyusya and…” a smile tugged at his lips despite it all, “…I realized what he had done. The contact with my former friends from school had been severed, I barely knew what my parents were up to, I hadn’t heard from Yakov and Lilia in years and only later understood he had burnt all the letters they had sent me. He had cut off my bonds to the world, to my loved ones, controlled my life without me realizing it.

“Lyusya…” he gave up a shaky laugh, “…was like a breath of fresh spring air, a revelation. A lightning bolt striking me from a clear sky, opening my eyes to what I had been too blind to see myself. She’s clever, always have been, and back then, she had just finished her studies at Koldovstoretz. Meeting her, getting to know her, talking to her… I did it all behind his back, because I was afraid. Scared he would find out I had offered my heart to another who had accepted it and offered me hers in turn. I fell helplessly in love with her in a way I had never thought possible.

“I understood I needed to leave.” He admitted then, fidgeting with the fabric of his robes. “I understood I needed to let go off the past, and off him, to move forward. So… I summoned the courage and told him. He didn’t take it well, no, even when I tried easing him into the idea of letting me go, and he finally did. Only to rip me away from my family a few years later.”

“He has plenty of motives, then.” Mr. Potter thought slowly when Ilia showed no signs of wishing to continue. “Revenge. Love. Family.”

“All of them.” Ilia confirmed without hesitation. “Revenge on Lyusya for taking my heart, for breaking the Amortentia’s hold on me. His desperate longing for a family. His love for me.” His gaze was burning as he met the auror’s gaze, lips pressed together into a thin line.

“There’s no doubt here, Mr. Potter. He’s behind Inferno. He _is_ Inferno.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I told you it was "really big" with capital letters, but I suppose I'm not actually to be the judge of that)
> 
> I want to hug my characters... I'm going to hug my characters *hugs*
> 
> Exams ahead this week and yes, I know, I should have been reading, but I edited this instead. Oh well, I suppose there's still Tuesday night to prepare for "how-to-model-and-create-databases-even-though-you're-an-MA-and-barely-manages-HTML-coding". I can't say I'm looking forward to it, but I'm also not going to re-take that exam, so I should probably study. A little.
> 
> Speaking of which, it's half past midnight, and I have to be at work by eight. Meaning answering comments is for another day, unfortunately.
> 
> Take care of yourselves and each other <3
> 
> (And if there are any Competing for your Attention-readers around here... you can start keeping an eye out in about a week. Just a hint.)


	18. Fire Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ilia writes his heart out.  
> Yuuri worries.

_Dear Vitya,_

_I wish I had the courage and the possibility to tell you all of this in person, but as I have barely been able to confront all of it myself, and given the current circumstances, perhaps writing a letter is better than not telling you at all. What I am about to share with you is the weight of the world on my shoulders, and I would advise you not to share all this with Yuuri, for he should know as well. Let him read over your shoulder, should you find yourself unable to read it aloud, for I would not blame you for it._

_His name is Ivan Zimin._

_I met him at Koldovstoretz; we shared a dorm back then. He came from a rough background, orphaned at an early age, and he took a liking to me. He told me he had always longed for a family, and, by extension, for love, even though he never voiced it aloud. By our sixth year, we had grown very close, and one day he kissed me. Back then, I was overjoyed with the turn of events, as I undeniably had fallen in love with him over the years._

_When we graduated, I did not hesitate to move with him to Moscow, because that was where he was from and that was where he wanted to go. I left my parents, Yakov, Lilia, and everyone else in St. Petersburg. I remember being happy. I had always wanted to study and research magic, and back then, I was particularly interested in everlasting spells, like the one used to create Gubraithian Fire. So, while Ivan was at work at the apothecary, I was in the library reading or at home in the backyard, practicing._

_It was in the library I met her. Your mother. I was reading when a flash of gold moved just within my field of vision and I felt someone looking at me. She approached me, this seventeen-year-old freshly graduated from Koldovstoretz, and asked if I could help her locate the law-section. I have never stood up from my chair faster in my life. Or walked so slowly._

_After that, we met in the library every day, and at first, I felt terribly guilty. I had to admit to myself that I had fallen in love with Lyusya from that first second, and that was no easy feat. I told her about Ivan, of course, and I know she felt guilty, too, but the pull was stronger than gravity and impossible to resist. Surely, by now, you might know what it is I mean._

_But then, she began asking about my time at Koldovstoretz, about my parents, people close to me, and through her, I finally realized that I had been cut off from the world. I had not seen my parents in ages, I had not heard a word from Yakov and Lilia for months, perhaps years, and I had no clue as to what my former schoolmates were up to. Lyusya thought all of this very worrying, so she suggested I do something I will thank her for till the end of my days._

_She suggested I write a letter to my parents and to Yakov and Lilia, and she sent them with her owl to St. Petersburg, with instructions to address the return letters to her and not to me, so they would reach me. The letters that came back finally opened my eyes._

_I realized Ivan had taken my letters, my link to my loved ones, and burnt them. Erased them from existence, having used magic to recreate their handwriting and given me false letters sporadically that I could “reply” to, so neither I nor my loved ones would suspect a thing. So everything would seem to be all right, so that I wouldn’t leave Moscow for a single day. I still cannot forgive myself to this day for being so terribly naïve, so unfathomably blind. I finally understood what was going on, and I understood I needed to leave._

_When I finally worked up the courage and told Ivan I was going to leave him, that I could no longer reciprocate his feelings… he was not happy, to put it nicely. I never told your mother that I had to use defensive spells in order to get through his tantrum unharmed. When he was done casting curses at me, he started crying, begging for forgiveness, begging me to stay, but I had made up my mind and told him there was no way to change it. I told him I knew what he had done. Scared that I would take it to court, he let me go, and not matter what, I would have walked out the door anyway._

_Lyusya and I moved to Yekaterinburg, then, settling down in the house you came to call home. She applied for a job at the Ministry in Moscow, and while she did not get that particular job, she was instantly offered a better one – as secretary to the Minister for Magic. You know where that path has led her._

_I continued researching everlasting spells, and only a year after we moved to Yekaterinburg, I managed to conjure Gubraithian Fire. The flame has been burning in the torch by the front gate ever since, as you know._

_Years later, when Lyusya had been promoted to Adviser for the Minister for Magic and I had been recognized as one of the greatest sorcerers in Russia with an award an all (that dust-collecting thing in gold your mother hung above the fireplace in the living room), we suddenly found ourselves expecting you. We had been planning on a child, wanting one for long, but we had originally planned to wait until after marriage. We had not gotten that far yet, regrettably._

_However, there was no way, none whatsoever, that we were going to not have a child we both wanted simply because we weren’t married yet, so we decided to not care about what people said and move along. We were engaged and we had an enormous advantage of having the Minister for Magic speaking publicly in our defense. We owe her much for the protection her words provided back then._

_Now comes the hard part. The part that I want to forget, but that I have to tell you._

_You had just been born, Vitya. My son. Our son. We were overjoyed, your mother and I, and I was delighted to find your eyes were just as glacier blue as hers. Beautiful from the very beginning._

_When you were barely a month old, Lyusya took you with her to visit her parents in St. Petersburg. By then, my parents had passed away, and Yakov and Lilia were at Koldovstoretz. I headed to the library to get some reading done, and did not think much of it when I left my goblet of cranberry juice on the table when I went to get a book. I loved cranberry juice back then, very much, because my mother used to make it and it reminded me heavily of her._

_It has since been ruined for me forever, and I cannot stand even the sight of cranberries any longer._

_I knew something was wrong when I lifted the goblet, because while it certainly smelled like cranberry juice, there were other smells, too. Smells that should not have been in my goblet, of which the most prominent was the scent of your mother’s hair._

_The next thing I knew was my body freezing up and the liquid being forced down my throat before I fell into darkness._

_The memories after that incident are not of much coherence. I remember him, kissing me and smiling, telling me we would have a child to care for. I remember being desperately obsessed with him, not a second passing by when he wasn’t on my mind._

_The first, proper memory I have from the months I spent under the influence of Amortentia is your mother talking to me. Her holding my hands and telling me to fight back, because the Ministry Aurors saw she had too little evidence, that there’s no cure for a potion as strong as the one in my system, that she would do anything to make me break through the veil. I remember her speaking of you. The name “Vitya” stuck itself in my brain right next to “Lyusya.” Your mother says I tried attacking her when she first approached, that she had to disarm me and immobilize me in order to approach. I do not recall this, and I have never been able to forgive myself for that, either, even though it was an obvious side effect of the potion._

_Lyusya continued to visit and talk, relentless in her quest, always showing up when Ivan was at work. Each time, I got a little more lucid, and there were times where I briefly broke through the potion when she was not around. Those times might have scarred me the most, but also given me hope._

_Finally, one day, I broke through and did not fall back. That was the day Lyusya took me directly to the Ministry so I could tell them myself what had passed. I was afraid of a relapse until I was absolutely certain there was no more Amortentia in my veins._

_Ivan was arrested the same evening when he returned home._

_And you, Vitya. You had grown so much that my heart ached. I cried for days. Even years afterwards, there are still nights when I cry myself to sleep because I missed so much, because I was not there with my fiancée to take care of my newborn son. I missed your first smile, your first teeth, even your first steps. You started walking early, unable to sit still. I never saw the day you started crawling or the one when you started holding your own goblet to drink from._

_Lyusya missed a fair amount of those, too, because you were with Yakov and Lilia most of the time during this. Mostly at Koldovstoretz, as you might gather. They were in much better condition to take care of you than Lyusya’s parents, as her father was terribly ill and her mother was slowly fading away with him. We still believe the only reason they lived to see our wedding was because she was keeping him alive until then._

_Love is a strange, powerful form of magic, is it not?_

_Yakov and Lilia also took care of you while your mother and I fought Ivan in the courtroom. Luckily, we had Nikolai Plisetsky, Yuri’s grandfather. He was an excellent judge, and he listened. He understood. With his help, and with Lyusya’s extensive knowledge of the legislation, we won the case, and Ivan was sentenced to a hundred years in the Prison of the Unclean Force._

_And now, many years later, the grim news of his escape has reached us here. This means there is no longer any doubt as to who is behind Inferno, who Inferno is, and his motives seems clear as day._

_But you need to know this, Vitya, because Ivan is a terribly powerful wizard. More powerful than I can describe with words. His emotions have always been strong, and it extends to his magic._

_You need to be careful, my little sun. You and Yuuri both._

_Again, I deeply regret writing all of this in a letter. We are always with you, your mother and I, even when we are apart like this, and I need you to know and understand that. We are family, and family is a very special kind of love, too._

_Stay safe, and stay strong._

_With love, Papa_

 

**

 

Devil’s Snare. Strangles anything that touches it, rendering victims defenseless as it immobilizes their hands and legs, chokes them with its soft, springy tendrils. Despises light and fire. Lumos Maxima or Lumos Solem would do the trick. Incendio. No problem as long as there was a wand at hand.

And if there wasn’t… relax. Play dead. When it releases its grip enough, grab the wand and cast a spell. Or apparate.

Griffins, then. Eagles up until the wings, then a lion to the tail. A fierce and intelligent beast, and could only be dealt with using utmost respect and honesty, if at all. Kind of like a hippogriff, and not at all. Kind of like a sphinx, but not. Without the riddles. Rank four in the Ministry of Magic Classification of magical Creatures. Same rank as the phoenix.

Basilisks were a five. So were dragons, werewolves and chimaeras. Flobberworms ranked only one.

Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration. Five Principal Exceptions. Food can’t be conjured, but consumable liquids can. Conjured objects would never last long, but liquids could be consumed and not disappear from the stomach. Transfigured objects lasted longer, but nothing could ever be permanently transformed. Birds and snakes were easier to conjure than other animals, and no one seemed to understand why.

Human transfiguration was essential for an auror to master, was it not? Add muscle, height, weight, change hair- and eye-color, speed up aging, look younger, add birthmarks, remove identity-revealing scars and other physical traits. Become a Metamorphmagi without being born one.

The Fidelius Charm. Concealing a secret inside an individual’s soul. Or several individuals… was there a maximum number? How may Secret Keepers could one subject (or object) of protection have? What would happen if one of the Secret Keepers revealed the protected subject and the others wouldn’t approve?

Many parts… the bond between the subject and the Secret Keeper(s), the faith of the subject towards the Secret Keeper, the concealment of the secret inside the Secret Keeper’s soul… and if that soul were to depart from the world, everyone who had learnt the secret from the Secret Keeper would take their place. But if the Secret Keeper revealed the secret to no one, it would be lost with them forever.

Protego Totalum. Powerful protection for a larger area. Could it be internally strengthened with Protego Maxima and Protego Horribilis? Could it be infused with Homenum Revelio?

Repello Inimicum, combined with the Protego-spells and Fianto Duri… that was the trick, wasn’t it? But was it enough?

Felix Felicis. Liquid Luck, molten gold in color. Tricky. Brewing time six month. Squill bulb, murtlap tentacle, tincture of thyme, powdered common rue – all good. Ashwinder egg and occamy eggshell – much harder to obtain. Overuse causes giddiness and reckless behavior, extremely toxic if consumed in large quantities, disastrous if brewed incorrectly.

However, a tablespoon of luck at the right time… could it make a difference in a life-and-death situation? Would it be worth drinking a mouthful of liquid gold, then?

And love potions… what did Hector Dagworth-Granger say about love potions?

_“Powerful infatuations can be induced by the skillful potioneer, but never yet has anyone managed to create a truly unbreakable, eternal, unconditional attachment that alone can be called love.”_

_“The person who drinks Amortentia will appear pale and sickly, growing obsessed with the object of their affections, speaking of them as though hit by a ray of purest sunlight. By extension, they become excited or dangerously unstable towards others.”_

The measures Ludmila had to take when approaching Ilia should have been evidence enough for the aurors, so why had they thought her delusional? Because she was in love?

The world was a cruel place, after all.

Viktor, then…

Destiny, seven… and personality a seven, too. Highly intelligent. In need of great self-assurance and composure. Loyal, committed. On a quest to explore the depths of himself. Excels in any kind of artistic pursuit, undeniably. Soul, nine. Great resolve, enthusiastic, dynamic. Mars stands for boldness, courage, vigor. If he set a goal, he would reach it. Self-confident and decisive, stubborn. Definitely stubborn. Can hold a camouflage, a mask, but the need of affection and love… was deep. Very deep. Numerology wasn’t perhaps the most reliable form of arithmancy, but there seemed to be some truth to it anyway.

And Quidditch, Quidditch… they had yet to perfect the Woollongong Shimmy, at least. And they needed to make sure they would surprise the Hufflepuffs in the all too quickly approaching game, and even more in the game against Ravenclaw in May. Sara was on a mission to win the cup, and frankly, that wasn’t going to happen. They would need to train harder than ever before, and even though it was only the beginning of February, everything was all too close.

The remaining Quidditch games. The N.E.W.T.:s. Then there was all the dancing. And the looming threat of Inferno. Ivan, apparently.

Viktor stirred a little in his slumber but didn’t wake up, just nuzzling closer, curled up against Yuuri’s side, his breathing for once even and peaceful. Yuuri didn’t resist the urge to gently brush his lips against unruly silver strands on Viktor’s head, inhaling the scent of shampoo. And sweat. Well, the latter was to be expected, considering what they had been up to a couple of hours earlier. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he let it spread.

Yuuri had never wanted anything or anyone as strongly in his life, and it both excited and scared him all at once. In fact, having met Viktor, Yuuri had started questioning whether he had really _wanted_ anything before at all, up until the point Viktor had entered the Great Hall at the start of term and that terrifying feeling of _want_ had overwhelmed him.

It had frightened him deeply, how much he had not only wanted Viktor, but how much he felt like he _needed_ him. Needed him close, within reach, needed to know he was safe. He had been shaken by his own thoughts, by his own feelings, scared he would cross the line to obsession if he wasn’t careful. Scared he would become possessive.

Then, he had discovered the feeling to be mutual, and his fears had been subdued, at least a little. It wasn’t obsession, nor was it possessiveness.

Love. It was all love. His Patronus proved a lot, and _Stammi Vicino_ proved even more.

The love they shared was special, Yuuri knew. Viktor had also told him his father had said so; that the first love was special. It partially explained why the spell had worked so well. Partially.

But there were many kinds of love, and Yuuri knew Ilia to know that as well. He had learnt it from reading his books, after all.

There was love of the self, and according to Ilia, it was of much more importance than one could perhaps guess at first glance. It wasn’t about narcissism, but about the ability to love and embrace the self, because how could one love anyone else if one couldn’t love themselves? It was a good argument, Yuuri thought, and one that spoke to him deeply when he had first read it years ago in the library at Mahoutokoro.

Back then, he had taken his first steps in fighting his anxiety, having started drinking the Draught of Peace regularly and was learning to make the potion himself at the time. He had taken Ilia’s words to heart and attempted to embrace himself as he was. It had been hard, and the road turned out to be long and bumpy, but it had been a start. And now, with Viktor, Yuuri didn’t feel the need to drink the potion as strongly as he had felt it before, even though he still did, because anxiety wasn’t exactly something that could be cured. There was no miracle potion to get rid of it forever, but it could be tamed. With potion and love.

What else was there then…?

Friendship, of course. Phichit. Chris.

Viktor.

Yuuri would like to think he was Viktor’s friend as much as his boyfriend. Loyalty and sacrifice laid in friendship, Ilia had written, and he associated both heavily with Viktor. Sharing emotions was another thing. Familial love landed in the same category of natural and instinctual affection. Family and friends, pets, companions… commitment.

But their relationship held playfulness, too. Flirting, teasing, banter, dancing…

…and the jump from there to passion was not a long one. Desire, dangerous and fiery, the one that had caused fear to grip Yuuri’s heart when he was sure he would lose control. And so he had done, in a way, just not in the way he feared. Because falling madly in love with a boy he had never spoken to before was surely a sign of losing control.

Longstanding love, then. A deep understanding between two people. Compromises had to be made, patience was virtue, tolerance and respect. Falling in love was easy, Ilia said, but staying in love was something truly wondrous. Stand in love, stay in love. It required effort, a will to stay together, mutual from both parts. Yuuri wanted to think he and Viktor could reach that. Wanted to believe.

And then, there was the most powerful one. Selfless love. Unconditional, universal, unwavering, transcending and persisting regardless of circumstance. The highest form of love there was.

Six forms of love, Ilia had argued, because friendship and family were so close to one another in nature that he hadn’t separated them… should he have?

…no, Yuuri thought, silently agreeing. United, love was stronger anyway, expanding the meaning and giving more weight to it. Everything was tied together in the end, and he needed look no further than right past the tip of his own nose, which was buried into Viktor’s hair, to know there was a little bit of all the types of love in what they shared.

There was friendship and family, with loyalty and sacrifice, with emotional support and instinctual affection. There was playfulness and passion, want and desire, the thrill of falling head over heels. There was the foundation to a longstanding love, the will to work for a shared future, the will to stay together.

And there was, without the shadow of a doubt, selfless love. Unwavering no matter what, only growing stronger by the day, by the second, by the heartbeat.

_“Can you hear?”_ Viktor had quietly asked only two nights earlier. Yuuri had listened, then, only able to hear one thing apart from their breathing.

_“Our heartbeats?”_ he had wanted to confirm.

Viktor had hummed, poking Yuuri’s chest, “ _Yours is twice as slow as mine.”_ He had pondered. _“But they sound beautiful together.”_

Viktor was, most of the time, very perceptive. He wasn’t a Ravenclaw for nothing, after all. Other times, though, he could be almost unfathomably blind.

Or perhaps it was becayse he just didn’t thank about certain things as much and as hard as he did about others, which probably was a good thing and one Yuuri wasn’t about to blame him for. There was too much on his mind as it was, especially since the letter from his father had arrived only the day before, and Yuuri really didn’t need Viktor thinking or worrying about anything more for the time being. Or ever, to be honest.

But he still couldn’t help but think… had Viktor not thought it odd? He had never mentioned it, never said a thing, but there was no way it had all gone completely unnoticed by him.

The warmth.

The heat.

Yuuri opened his eyes, only to be faced by the dark of the Room of Requirement. He was warm all over, his brow already beginning to sweat.

No, actually, he wasn’t even warm. He was burning up.

Maybe he should have gotten up just a little earlier.

Quickly and quietly, he gently removed himself from Viktor and from the bed, trying to do so without too much hassle. Sucking in a deep breath, he headed to the bathroom in the dark and closed the door behind him before allowing the lights to turn on and immediately strode over to the tub, turning the tap and setting the water to cold. He sat down in it before it even started filling up, letting the water rise around him.

The fire was spreading from his core throughout his entire body, fingertips tingling as it flooded his veins, hot and unrelenting.

When the water reached his neck, he closed the tap and sunk down, submerging himself in the ice-cold bath completely. He was burning on the inside, flames blazing in his blood, and while the fire didn’t exactly bother him…

…it might have bothered Viktor. Maybe. Or at least, Viktor could have woken up and thought Yuuri to have a fever, and then he would fuss and worry for nothing.

Because how was he possibly going to explain… what it was. Why it was there.

Bowing his head, he emerged from beneath the water with a deep sigh, keeping his eyes shut tight. The heat had turned into a once again pleasant warmth, one that could pass off as normal. Well, maybe a bit higher than normal, but still. Yuuri raised his hands to rub his temples.

Maybe it was time to write a letter home.

 

**

 

Mari saw the familiar owl approaching Yu-Topia long before it started circling downwards. She slowly inhaled the last of the burning leaves in her pipe and blew out a ring of smoke that slowly dissolved into the cool February air, stretching out her arm to allow Yuki to land smoothly.

“How’s my brother doing, huh?” she asked the letter more than the owl, allowing the bird to nip at her fingers just enough to make it clear she would be fed right in a moment. “Looks like he’s written in a hurry…”

She allowed Yuki to fly up and over the house, where she knew there would be dead mice waiting for her if she was fast enough, stepped inside the building, switching to sandals before heading directly towards the kitchens. Yuuri had definitely scribbled, so he really must have written in some level of urgency.

“Mother, it’s from Yuuri.”

“Oh?” Hiroko Katsuki appeared as if subjected to a summoning spell, taking the offered letter to read it, “Oh dear.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had perhaps meant for this to be a little longer and go a little further, but it's Christmas Eve and this is literally all I have time for today before my stressed-out mother goes Christmas Crazy (we're having people over for dinner at four, it's now 11 in the morning and she's already freaking out...).
> 
> I'm going to be at home for the holidays and probably not going to write much while I'm here, so I guess... I'll see you with more Gubraithian Fire in 2018 ^.^
> 
> Happy Holidays to all of you <3 take care!


	19. Magical Moments Alight in the Dark of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor wants a face for Inferno, and his nightmare gets worse. He also almost forgets such a thing as Valentine's day exist.  
> Yuuri almost forgets that, too, but is intent on turning Viktor's nightmares into pleasant dreams.

”Oh dear.”

Cold fingers wrapped around Mari’s heart and squeezed at her mother’s reaction to the letter in her hand. If anything had happened…

“What is it?” she inquired, following Hiroko as she abruptly turned around and headed towards the kitchen, “Mum, please, is something wrong with Yuuri?”

“What’s wrong with Yuuri?” Toshiya Katsuki asked, hurrying over to his wife and daughter with a dishtowel in one hand and a wand in the other, “Hiroko?”

“No, no, nothing wrong per se,” Hiroko shook her head, finally standing still so that Mari could read over her shoulder, “but he’s worried. A little afraid, even.”

“Huh?” Mari furrowed her brows, “Getting stronger? Is he worried he might lose control?”

“That’s what it sounds like.” Toshiya agreed. “It also sounds like he needs guidance shortly.”

“But who can teach him that right now?” Mari asked helplessly, shaking her head slowly, “Minako is the only one over there who knows anything, but she certainly doesn’t know what to do and how to guide him.”

“Well, there’s only one thing for it then!” Hiroko smiled, looking all too happy given the situation, handing the parchment to Mari and pulling out her wand, “I’ll go pack.”

Mari gaped at her. Her father sported a mirroring expression.

“Hiroko, honey, you can’t mean-“ he started, but halted himself as she chuckled, nodding.

“Yes, I do.” She assured him, and Mari could feel her stomach drop. “It’s because of me that he is in this situation, wouldn’t you agree? I’m the only one who can help him, and I owe him that.”

“Mum, Hogwarts is on the other side of the globe!” Mari exclaimed, thinking about the long journeys her brother and his friends had to make twice a year, and how exhausted it made them every time, “That’s a very long journey.”

“Then why don’t you come with me, Mari dearest?” Hiroko suggested, causing Mari to gape at her again, “Yuuri would be delighted to see you, and I could use company. I do assure you, though, I’m perfectly capable of making the trip.”

Mari inhaled deeply and then exhaled slowly in a defeated sigh.

“I know.” She admitted. “I’ll… go pack.”

“Splendid!” Hiroko clasped her hands together in excitement, smiling brightly, “Let’s make haste; we’ll have some lunch, and then apparate to Shanghai.”

“ _Shanghai?!_ From _here?_ Shouldn’t we at least stop via Jeju?”

“Trust me on this, Mari,” Toshiya told her, shaking his head even as he smiled, “if she really wanted to, she could apparate straight to Ulaanbaatar; it’s just not worth the effort going that far with one apparition.”

“It’s not worth the effort going straight to Shanghai with one apparition.”

“Piece of advice, dear,” Toshiya added, patting her shoulder as he went back to drying the dishes, neatly waving his wand as the dishtowel got to work (which was completely pointless, as he could easily have dried them all with a single flick of his wrist, but he preferred being terribly thorough), “never underestimate your mother.”

Mari had no other response to that than a nod. Truth was, sometimes, she kind of forgot who her mother was. Or rather, what she was.

What Yuuri was.

“…I’ll go pack.”

 

**

 

“Any luck?”

Viktor looked up as Yuuri came back to the table they had occupied in the library with a thick, enormous book bound in red leather. He shook his head, doleful.

“Nothing.” He mouthed back. Yuuri nodded, leaning over to place a kiss on his cheek before opening the book and getting to it. Viktor held back a sigh as he returned to the pile of old newspapers in front of him.

They had been looking for literally anything they could find about Ivan Zimin for two days straight, and had yet to find anything useful. They had tried every book they remembered Viktor’s father to have been featured in, but only a handful of those so much as mentioned that he had been able to break through the effects of Amortentia, and certainly didn’t elaborate on the subject. Two books mentioned the trial briefly, but didn’t go into any detail, either.

And truthfully, even though they had gotten quite some information from the letter Viktor’s father had written him (or, really, them), Viktor wanted to know more. Needed to, even. He wanted to know how it all had been received by the public, how it had affected people around them, why Zimin had been sentenced to a hundred years instead of fifty.

But more than anything, Viktor _needed_ to know what Ivan Zimin looked like.

He needed to be able to see the facial features of a, presently, faceless evil haunting him in his nightmares, and if he ever were to see Zimin in real life, he would recognize the man. The beast. The monster that had dared do all those horrible things to his father, and to his mother.

And, he had to recognize, to himself as well.

In the corner of his eye, Viktor spotted Professor Cialdini browsing the shelves, a contemplative look on his face. When he caught Viktor looking, he gave him the smallest and quickest of apologetic smiles before returning his gaze to the books.

The security at Hogwarts had been amped up further ever since Yuri had attacked Yakov, and with Inferno’s identity now (most probably) known, Mrs. Granger and Mr. Robards had given a few suggestions that the Headmistress had been quick to put in action.

There were now well-disguised Protego- and Revelio-charms placed strategically all over the castle, complete with Fianto Duri to keep them activated, and an enormous Protego Maxima/Fianto Duri-combination lying like an invisible dome over the entire school and all its grounds. Every single person that had been deemed to be close to Viktor was also now (unknowingly) carrying around a sneaky combination of Protego Horribilis and Fianto Duri.

Viktor was certain he didn’t know all the details concerning guarding the school and the students, but he did know that Cave Inimicum-charms had been cast over every single entrance to the castle, also on the enormous Protego Maxima around the school, to prevent intruders from entering. Or at least making sure they couldn’t enter unnoticed.

“Viktor.”

His head snapped up at Yuuri’s soft whisper, and then down towards the book as his eyes followed the direction of single pointed finger.

Eyes widening, Viktor leaned over as Yuuri turned the book slightly to make it easier for Viktor to look, his gaze drawn to two pictures.

The image to the left was a familiar one, showing his parents and Viktor himself. He knew he was approximately two weeks old in the photo he had seen sitting on his father’s desk back in Yekaterinburg. Baby Viktor’s eyes were wide, looking up at his mother in something akin to awe, hands reaching and searching in futile attempts to grab her long, golden hair, instead clinging to the fabric of her ruby robes. His father kissed her cheek in the picture, then leaned over to poke Viktor’s nose gently, smiling in joy. Little Viktor’s eyes followed the finger that had poked him, eyes wide as saucers as he located his father upside-down above him.

It was a nice photo, Viktor had thought from time to time as he had spotted it in his father’s study. He just hadn’t really ever understood how much that picture must have meant to his father, and probably still did.

However, it was the picture to the right that he found himself staring at, the hand he held on his lap fisting the fabric of his robes as he swallowed a thick lump of discomfort that had gotten caught in his throat.

The man was his father’s age, with ash-blond hair pulled back into a low, loose ponytail, intense emerald eyes fixated into a piercing glare. He was scowling, clearly angered, arms chained to the armrests of the accused’s chair in a courtroom. His body appeared to be slender, but he didn’t seem tall. Sure, it was hard to tell since he was alone in the picture, but based on his proportions to the chair, he really didn’t look like he had that much height for a man. Viktor could have bet he matched his mother more in length than he did his father.

_Ivan Zimin, right before the trial that sent him to The Prison of the Unclean Force_ , read the caption.

“What book is this?” Viktor wondered quietly, forcing his gaze away from the book to look at Yuuri, attempting to ground himself and make his heart slow down, as it was pounding mercilessly against his ribcage.

“ _The Discoveries that Shaped the Modern Wizarding World._ ” Yuuri mouthed back, thankfully bringing his chair closer to Viktor so he could place a hand on the small of his back. “I thought it could be worth a shot seeing as the case not only led to the discovery that it is possible to fight the effects of Amortentia, but also led your father onto the path of researching the magic of love, and those are undeniably some of the biggest and most important discoveries of the modern wizarding world.”

Overwhelmed once again by the reminder that Yuuri not only had brilliant mind but that he also _cared_ , Viktor couldn’t resist the urge to lean in to briefly press their lips together. He had to make it a very short kiss, though, because if Madame Pince found them smooching in the library, she would shoo them out in a matter of seconds.

Encouraged by the endearing, rosy color on Yuuri’s cheeks that he was delighted to be the cause of, Viktor slipped his hands into Yuuri’s before looking at the book again, skimming through the text in search for something they didn’t already know. Anything new at all.

_It was recognized by the Ministry-appointed Potions Master, as well as of the Aurors involved, that Zimin had managed to brew a very high-quality Amortentia, with effects that they estimated could last for at least a month. During the trial, Zimin confessed he had made Nikiforov drink the potion weekly, the overdosing causing Nikiforov to lose both weight and sleep._

_Ziminis recognized by the Russian authorities as a powerful wizard, and especially as a skilled Potions Master. He is well-versed in potion-making, and also in alchemy and the use of the four elements. It is speculated he was attempting to create a Philosopher’s Stone when he was caught and sent to prison, but it also appears he never succeeded with such a thing. Nikiforov confirms he strongly believes Zimin to not have managed it. The two of them were well up-to-date with each other’s work, after all._

“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” Viktor whispered, pointing to the last paragraph, “Zimin knows papa’s magic, he knows how it’s built and how it works. How papa _thinks_. Who else could have even had a chance of slipping a curse into papa’s defense spells?”

“My thought exactly.” Yuuri agreed. “It’s just as your father said; there’s no doubt as to Inferno’s identity any longer. And since Zimin seems to be very good with potions, there’s a strong possibility he could have used Polyjuice Potion or some other body-modifying potion to make sure he wouldn’t be easily recognized even is his face happened to be revealed by accident.”

“Maybe that was why papa didn’t recognize him at all back then, when he saw that figure in black back at Beaumont Street.” Viktor pondered quietly, then frowned. “But… do you really think it was him that… you know…”

_Attacked us._

Yuuri didn’t need clarification to understand. Instead, he frowned in turn, lines deep on his forehead as he contemplated.

“I… don’t know,” he replied slowly, looking somewhat conflicted, “we know he wasn’t the one who attacked Yakov… and while I on one hand would like to think it maybe was him, I can’t say that the figure I dueled felt like a highly experienced dueler. I mean that, it didn’t exactly feel like an overwhelming task to duel them, you know? They were certainly skilled, sure, but they made some rookie mistakes I somehow can’t imagine a person like Zimin doing, not based on what we have read and heard. Allowing a Homenum Revelio to drag them out of their hiding place was a move I can’t fathom would have worked on someone like him.”

“You had been subjected to the Imperius Curse.” Viktor reminded him, stomach churning at the unpleasant reminder. “They can’t have expected you to suddenly attack them.”

“You do make a good point.” Yuuri conceded, nodding thoughtfully. “But I have to say I’m still doubtful. If it was Zimin that has done all of what has passed here, he would have had to find a way into the castle somehow, maybe even three times, and it’s a well-known fact that the secret entrances to Hogwarts were all sealed off after the Second Wizarding War to prevent anything like that from happening again. Or then, if he found a way in anyway, he would have been here all along, and if he has, then where is he and what has he been waiting for?”

“And if he’s been here the whole time…” Viktor realized, seeing the same thought dawn upon his boyfriend as well, watching his expression pale considerably, “…then who has been sending all those letters to my parents that the Ministry has confiscated? Because Mr. Potter was sure they have not come from Hogwarts.”

“Exactly.” Yuuri replied, voice thin.

Viktor’s hand found his beneath the table as they continued staring at each other, letting the implications of their discoveries sink in.

Either, Ivan Zimin was already at Hogwarts, and had someone helping him on the outside.

Or then, Ivan Zimin was on the outside, and had someone helping him… at Hogwarts.

 

**

 

Inferno was laughing at him, with a mouth Viktor could now see, emerald eyes flashing evilly as he raised his wand.

Yuuri stepped in front of Viktor, wand raised. Viktor panicked, unable to think, grabbing Yuuri and pushing him to the side as Ivan Zimin shouted:

“ _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

There was no stopping the curse that hit Viktor square in the chest.

…but it was Yuuri that dropped to the ground, eyes lifeless and mouth open in a silent scream.

 

Viktor woke with a start, covered in sweat, panting heavily. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t process what he had just seen. The only thing he could do was shake his head as Yuuri asked him, and sob into his bare shoulder.

If Viktor was warm, then Yuuri was positively burning, but his heartbeat was steady and his breathing calm, and Viktor found only comfort in the warmth.

“What happened?” whispered Yuuri, soft and quiet. Viktor drew a shaky breath.

“Inferno. Ivan. Face and all.” He swallowed thickly, painfully. “You were there, too. He cast the killing curse on me, and… a-and…” his voice cracked as he trembled with every breath, “…and you died. I was hit, but you died.”

The tears flew like an erratic waterfall as Yuuri pulled him closer, held him tighter. A soft kiss was pressed to Viktor’s forehead, gentle fingers stroking his hair.

“I’m not going to die, Viktor.” Yuuri murmured, and he sounded so reassuring and confident Viktor found himself believing him. “And neither are you.”

 

**

 

The wind was whistling in Viktor’s ears, despite the earmuffs, as he flew at high speed towards the ground, his angle as steep as he dared. Determined, he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, biting hard in concentration as the snow-covered ground of the Quidditch field came closer and closer.

His mind was screaming at him to stop. However, he wasn’t listening to that part of his sanity any longer. If he wanted to pull off what he had set out to do, he had to tune it out and instead trust himself and his broom to the fullest.

Well, those and…

“Now!”

…at least, Viktor could trust Yuuri.

So he did as told and pulled his Firebolt up, shooting straight up into the air just as fast as he had been traveling towards the ground. Fifteen meters up, he stopped, and only then did he hear the clapping behind him. He turned around and grinned.

“I could have gotten closer than that.” He claimed confidently as Yuuri reached him, cheeks a healthy, rosy shade from the cold and exertion.

“I know, but it’s an unnecessary risk to take.” Yuuri reasoned, cupping Viktor’s cheek to kiss him sweetly. His lips were warm and soft against Viktor’s cold ones. “When I shouted, you flew another good two meters down before pulling up. If you were to pull up then, without warning, the other Seeker wouldn’t have time to react before it’s too late anyway.”

“Maybe,” Viktor agreed, moving closer to have another taste of Yuuri’s pleasantly warm lips, “but I’m sure I could get close enough to the ground to touch before going back up.”

“And like I said, I don’t doubt it.” Yuuri smiled, making Viktor melt under his touch as he kissed him again. “The sun is setting; let’s head back to the castle.”

Viktor nodded eagerly, taking Yuuri’s hand as they descended towards the changing room.

“Bath?” he asked.

Yuuri hummed, “Of course… but dinner first.”

 

Honestly, Viktor had just about forgotten there was such a thing as Valentine’s Day. Or, well, it wasn’t exactly Valentine’s Day, as the had happened to be the previous Tuesday, but it was now Saturday, and that was they day that supposedly every single lovestruck couple at Hogwarts were going on Valentine’s dates to Hogsmeade. At least according to Chris, who was going over there to be all romantic with Louis.

It also appeared Yuuri had also forgotten such a day even existed, and as he and Viktor couldn’t exactly go on a Hogsmeade date, they had decided to improvise a bit.

Viktor had made it clear he wanted everything to do with Inferno gone from his head for the entire day, and Yuuri had set out to make sure that wish came true. After all, Viktor had fought against that one horrible nightmare he hadn’t been able to get rid of ever since he saw Ivan Zimin’s face, and even though it had only been a few days ago, it was wearing him down. It had gone as far as Viktor agreeing to actually take some Dreamless Sleep-potion so he could get some rest.

So, doing their best to forget the Fiendfyre they were surrounded by, Viktor had downed some potion the night before, and then they had slept in well past breakfast in the morning. The Great Hall had been mostly empty when they headed down for lunch, but Chris, Louis, Phichit and Seung-Gil had been waiting for them, so they all managed to have lunch together before heading separate ways. When Viktor asked Yuuri if Phichit and Seung-Gil were going on a date, Yuuri had given him a meaning grin and replied: “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

After that, they had headed back to the Room of Requirement, turned it into a cozy reading lounge with a crackling fireplace, and made themselves comfortable and read aloud from a (more recent) copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ to each other. As neither Viktor or Yuuri were of British background, it was a whole new world for them to explore, and Viktor couldn’t deny he had a soft spot for fairy-tales.

And Viktor finally understood the reference (that he hadn’t even realized was any reference) to Nate’s declaration “Bring me all your problems, all your troubles and your woes!” that he had almost shouted when Sherwood had begged him for help for hours on end while Nate had been all too busy trying to build a house of his Exploding Snap-cards. After Yuuri had read _The Wizard and the Hopping Pot_ , Viktor now knew that those words were what the exasperated wizard shouted when the pot had been pestering him to help all the unfortunate people with their worries for a long time, and the wizard had finally understood he actually needed to do something about it.

Most of the time Sherwood managed just fine on his own, but Viktor also knew that Transfiguration was a subject he felt insecure about, even after having decided continuing with it on a N.E.W.T.-level and was doing decently. Except that one time when he managed to turn his bench into a giant ear with legs (he was supposed to turn the seashell on his desk into a tortoise, but clearly missed the mark). And Nate really could have just left his silly cards and helped him sooner, sure, but his silly cards were what he used when coping with stress, so Viktor wasn’t about to blame him, either.

Having read a few fairy-tales (Viktor adored _The Fountain of Fair Fortune_ , which he found satisfyingly romantic), they had grabbed their brooms and headed down to the Quidditch pitch for a flight. They hadn’t went there with any intentions of practicing, so they didn’t, instead playing chase and hide-and-seek (Yuuri was far better at the first and Viktor at the latter), but by the end, Viktor wanted to try doing a Wronski Feint a few times before they headed back to the castle.

To Viktor’s surprise, Yuuri steered them in another direction that he had expected when they stepped into the Entrance Hall. He had expected them to go to the Great Hall to have dinner, but Yuuri started leading them up the stairs.

“I thought you said: ‘dinner first.’” Viktor spoke, tilting his head curiously.

Yuuri hummed, turning his head to kiss Viktor’s cheek, “I did. And we _are_ having dinner first.”

He offered no further explanation. Intrigued, Viktor just allowed Yuuri to lead the way, slowly realizing they were headed to the Room of Requirement again. Once they were standing in front of the silly tapestry with the silly wizard and the silly trolls, Viktor was staring at his boyfriend in confusion.

“The room can’t conjure food, right?” he asked before Yuuri even got the chance to start walking back and forth, “It’s still an exception to Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration, isn’t it?”

Yuuri nodded in confirmation, a twinkle in his eye that made Viktor’s heart flutter.

“Yes, it is, and no, the room can’t conjure food. Bear with me for a moment.”

…as if Viktor really had doubted him in the first place.

Hence, he watched as Yuuri walked back and forth in front of the empty wall three times before a familiar door finally appeared. He then turned to Viktor and offered him a hand. Smiling. Eyes sparkling as his cheeks dusted a beautiful shade of sunset pink.

Trembling in thrill and ill-hidden excitement, Viktor accepted Yuuri’s hand and followed him into the room.

Only for his jaw to hit the floor.

“You…” his grip on Yuuri’s hand tightened as his heartbeat picked up the pace, “…you planned this.”

It was far from an accusation.

Yuuri’s cheeks were about the same color as the Gryffindor-scarf around his neck, “Well… yeah, I did. Last night. It’s thought up in a bit of a hurry, but-“

“It’s perfect.” Viktor’s voice came out as a whisper, trying to take it all in. Then, he tilted his head. “Where has the food come from, by the way? Also, have you swallowed a romance novel?”

“I, uh,” Yuuri gave up a sheepish laugh, scratching his neck, “the house-elves here are always eager to help, and that was Phichit’s idea, you know, since we couldn’t go to Hogsmeade and all that. And no, I haven’t swallowed a romance novel,” he grinned, “I just asked myself: ‘what would Viktor like?’”

Oh, how Viktor _liked_. Loved, in fact. Very much.

There was food, warm and delicious, waiting for them on a small table for two in soft candlelight, a single blue rose in a crystal vase as decoration. The bed on the other side of the room was positively huge, and the pearly white, silk sheet (Viktor’s favorite) were strewn with deep red rose petals. The floor felt different, and seeing the gramophone in the corner, he realized it was the same material as in the Dance Room.

So far, everything was excellent.

And when he dragged Yuuri over to the bathroom to open the door, it became downright perfect. Viktor was sure the smile on his face was the approximate size of Russia.

“Yuu-uuri!”

Despite the bright blush, Yuuri laughed.

“You’re welcome?” he tried. Viktor turned his head to pull him in for a breathtaking, overjoyed kiss.

The bath looked like an outdoor setting, and Viktor recognized Yuuri had more than likely used the hot springs his family took care of as inspiration. Steam was rising from the clear water, the “bath” made up of smooth, dark stones. The light came from what looked like a million tiny stars in the midnight dark ceiling, something larger akin to the moon floating in the corner.

“It’s not exactly the Yu-Topia hot springs,” Yuuri said as Viktor finally pulled back from the kiss to admire the setting again, “but heavily inspired by it, at least.” He booped Viktor’s nose with his own, smiling fondly. “You’re turning me into a sap.”

Viktor failed to frown and snorted a laugh instead, “You already are a sap.”

“Perhaps,” Yuuri agreed easily, pecking his nose, “you just have a tendency to draw that sap out of me and up to the surface.” He tilted his head. “Hungry?”

Very.

Viktor kissed him silly. But they did have dinner after that. Then they were going to have a bath, but ended up dancing instead until an unknown hour of the night before having a bath.

And when they finally fell asleep, there weren’t that many rose petals left on the bed.

 

Inferno was far away from Viktor’s dreams that night. Instead, he was standing by the oak tree on the Hogwarts grounds with Yuuri again, like he had been that night when Yakov was attacked. It was summer, he recognized, and Yuuri was once again blinding beside him, adorned in shimmering golden robes.

The grass around Yuuri’s feet was much more lush and vibrant green than anywhere else around them, and when Viktor looked up, he found Yuuri offering him a bouquet of flowers again. Lilies of the Valley, like the last time.

Unlike the last time, though, Viktor found himself reaching out to accept the flowers, cradling the delicate blossom to his chest as if they held the universe. Yuuri smiled at him, then, bright and wide, before leaning down to pick up an acorn that had fallen by his feet. He closed it between both his hands briefly before opening his palm again.

The acorn was burning.

Viktor watched, mesmerized even in his dream, as the flames reduced the acorn to dust, and when from the dust sprouted a new bouquet of flowers, more Lilies of the Valley. He accepted the second bouquet, too, this time with trembling hands. Yuuri’s smile only widened, and he reached out to cup Viktor’s cheek gently.

And somehow, Viktor knew. Somehow, in his dreamlands, he understood.

Yuuri’s hand was fire. It was so hot it should have burnt his skin, should have reduced him to dust like it had the acorn.

And maybe Viktor was burning. Maybe they were burning.

But he felt only pleasant warmth, and when he finally awoke, a single thought was left from the night:

_What would rise from our ashes?_

 

**

 

_Dear mother,_

_I’m burning. It’s stronger than ever before, and it feels like it’s growing stronger by the day. I’ve been doing okay, but what if it doesn’t stop? What do I do? How do I handle it? I need to learn how. For Viktor’s sake and my own. Please._

_Tell everyone I said hi, and hug Aki-chan for me._

_Yuuri_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Mari and Hiroko make it to Hogwarts in time to... 
> 
> ...watch Gryffindor and Hufflepuff take each other on in a game of Quidditch? 
> 
> Find out in the next chapter!
> 
> And on that note, I will warn you right now that I'm going to have a literal hell in front of me approximately until the beginning of March. The last two courses I absolutely have to take for the sake of my second degree both start this week, and one of them happens to be made by the devil (two lectures a week and a practice session once a week on top of that, and since I absolutely don't study computer science and barely can count 1+1, I'm in for a world of pain). Atop that is still a full-time job, a second thesis that should be ready to be presented possibly as early as 5th March (Merlin save me, I hope I can present in on 19th instead), and most weekends are booked for dancing events. And my dance troupe turn 45, so that's to be properly celebrated in February. Then there was that paper I needed to write, and those lectures I'm meant to hold, and also that exhibition I'm meant to plan, and that magazine I'm supposed to edit, and yeah, nope, I'm so done. Goodbye sleep, social life and spare time, see you in March! (hopefully)
> 
> I will do my best to see to it you don't have to wait for ch 20 until March, though. For the sake of my own sanity, too.
> 
> <3 Happy new year, and take care! *hugs!*


	20. My Blood is Fire, Warming You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff in bright and freezing weather. Yuuri doesn't seem too bothered by the latter.
> 
> Neither does his mom.
> 
> Viktor wonders.

Mari stumbled as her feet hit the snow-covered ground, catching herself from cursing under her breath, letting out a string of profanities inwardly instead as she attempted to regain her balance. She didn’t want to curse in front of her mother, and was embarrassed as it was that she had to use Hiroko’s arm to steady herself.

To make it worse, her movements caused her mother to turn her head to look at her in concern, placing a hand over Mari’s.

“Are you all right, sweetie?” she asked softly, expression troubled and eyes searching, “I’m sorry, dear, I’ve probably been too intense with the apparitions. It’s been a while since I’ve traveled such a distance, and I’ve only ever done these trips with Yuuri…” she trailed off, a hint of guilt in the depths of her hazel gaze.

Mari wanted to wipe it off her face by any means necessary.

“I’m fine, mom, don’t worry.” She assured, straightening up determinedly. “I would have told you if it was too much.”

“I was counting on that.” Hiroko nodded slowly, narrowing her eyes slightly before letting it slide, giving Mari’s hand a squeeze before letting go to look around. Her features were softening. “I haven’t been to Hogsmeade or Hogwarts since the first time I brought Yuuri here… and I haven’t been to England altogether since we apparated to the Shiro’s for his sixth year. I remember the crisp air, though.”

“Did you tell Yuuri we were coming?” Mari asked warily. Knowing her mother, the answer was less than likely to be a yes.

“Oh, no, I didn’t.” Hiroko shrugged, unbothered, smiling widely. “But I did send a letter to both Professor McGonagall and to Minako-senpai. We’ll be met at the gates.”

“It’s six in the morning.” Mari pointed out dryly. “And I’m quite sure I saw you write ‘early afternoon’ in one of the letters you sent.”

“Ah, yes, I did.” Hiroko confirmed, nodding in confirmation as she started walking through the sleeping village, looking around in fascination like she always did, constantly amazed by everything regardless of whether it was something she had experienced before or not. “But Minako was quick to inform med that Yuuri will be playing Quidditch today, so I decided we were going to hurry onward a little bit. I realize now that I forgot to tell you that.”

Typical, but nothing Mari wasn’t used to. It was exceedingly common for Hiroko Katsuki to slip into forgetfulness whenever she was excited about something.

“Nevermind that you did, mom,” She sighed, a fond smile teasing at the corner of her mouth, “but did you tell Minako we were going to be here early?”

Hiroko giggled softly, “Of course I did, dear. Look!”

Mari turned her gaze, and indeed, a hooded figure dressed warmly in a thick cloak was waiting on the other side of the Hogwarts castle gates, the tip of their wand illuminated.

“Good morning.” Minako’s voice greeted them long before they got a good look on her face, as she was properly bundled up, lowering the scarf she had used to covered herself up to her nose with. “Or is it? What was the first thing I ever said to you, Hiroko?”

“Good morning, Minako-senpai,” Hiroko greeted cheerily, ignoring the grim tone she had been met with, “and you said ‘Wow, you’re strong!’” she added, giggling delightedly. A smile tugged at Minako’s lips at that.

“And what did I give you for your eleventh birthday, Mari?”

“A new cauldron, a new scale, and a daffodil that turned into a poster of the Blond Takao the moment I was alone in my room.” Mari recounted without a hitch.

“Welcome to Hogwarts, then.” Minako smiled, but there was a hint of worry in her features as she raised her arm to unlock the gate. “Is it really this bad with Yuuri?”

“Not at all, Minako-senpai.” Hiroko assured her, hugging her tightly once they were no longer separated by heavy iron bars and a copious amount of defense spells. “He just needs a little guidance, and I’m more help here in person than through a letter.”

Minako nodded slowly as they started heading towards the castle, snow crunching beneath their feet, “I’m going to take your word for that. Well, then, we’re going to meet the Professor McGonagall and Professor Cialdini in the Headmistress’ office first, and then you can greet Yuuri during breakfast.”

“I haven’t seen Yuuri play Quidditch since Mahoutokoro.” Hiroko mused, rubbing her hands together in excitement. “Nor Takeshi-kun for that matter. He _is_ playing for Hufflepuff, yes?”

“Keeper.” Minako confirmed, pulling up her scarf again to shield her cheeks from the cold. “And all signs are pointing towards a bright and clear day, it’s going to be hard to spot the Snitch with the sun reflecting gold in the snow. Although,” she added, amusement lacing into her voice, “it’s probably not going to be a problem for Gryffindor.”

“Because of Yuuri, huh?” Mari muttered, remembering the amazement she had felt years back when Yuuri had played his first game of Quidditch at Mahoutokoro and not only beat a seasoned Seeker to the Snitch, but also did it without said Seeker ever noticing Yuuri had been chasing it. He had kept on surprising after that.

“Partially, but also because of the team in general.” Minako elaborated. “He’s got them working together better than any other team in the history of this school, I’m sure.” She let out a fond laugh. “It’s hard to remember the nerve-wreck of a little boy he once was while seeing him own the Quidditch field, really. It’s even harder to remember when seeing him together with Mr. Nikiforov.”

“Ooh, I can’t _wait_ to meet Vicchan!” Hiroko squealed, clasping her hands together in delight, “I’ve wanted to meet him ever since Yuuri first mentioned him in a letter.” There was a hint of worry in her expression, then, and she added: “How has he been?”

Minako sighed, expression darkening, “He clings to Yuuri like a lifeline. You might be better off asking them yourself later, though.”

 

**

 

Viktor headed down to breakfast with a very focused boyfriend, already donned in Quidditch gear and broom in hand, and sat down together with the Gryffindor team. Unlike during Ravenclaw’s game against Slytherin, it was a bright day. The sun was peeking out more and more through fleeting, white clouds, blue sky well visible beyond, the snow shimmering in gold and pearly white.

Phichit wasn’t very happy about that particular fact, but still managed to be an even brighter ray of sunshine than the _actual_ sunshine.

“I’ll be blind, and so will Guang-Hong, so we’re even.” He reasoned while very ungracefully stuffing his face full of beans, eggs and toast. “Fair play, same playground. The Snitch is mine, though.”

“Have you told Guang-Hong that?” Yuuri inquired, amused even as he looked like he was going through their entire set of strategies in his head, look calculating even as he filled Viktor’s goblet with pumpkin juice before pouring some for himself. The gesture was small but terribly endearing.

“I informed him yesterday.” Phichit confirmed, grinning broadly. “He told me the Snitch has his name on it. Just so you know, we’re going to war, Captain.”

Yuuri grinned right back with an amused huff, and Viktor giggled, taking a sip of the tea he had served himself, reaching for a few sandwiches to wrap in napkins to bring to the stands. Knowing the Gryffindor team a little better than he had back in October, he wasn’t sure the game would actually last very long, unless Phichit and Guang-Hong would have major troubles locating the Snitch.

And the longer the game, the more goals Yuuri, Mila and Kenjirou would have time to throw right through the Hufflepuff goal hoops…

…Viktor imagined Sara was hoping for a short game. Five minutes or so.

(He kind of was, too, regarding the scores. Then again, Yuuri looked really very nice owning the field on his Yajirushi, but Viktor might have been biased.)

Suddenly, Viktor became aware of Phichit’s jaw slackening and falling open opposite him.

And _then_ , there was a hand within his field of vision, settling on Yuuri’s shoulder.

“ _Ohayoo_ , Yuuri-kun.”

Yuuri choked on pumpkin juice, swallowed, coughed, and whipped around so fast Viktor was afraid his head would twist right off his neck.

“ _Okaa-san?!_ ” he gaped, eyes wide as saucers as he shook his head briefly to clear it, “Mari-neechan?”

A short, bespectacled woman beamed at him before flinging her arms around his neck in a tight hug, babbling rapidly in Japanese. Viktor barely had time to straighten his thoughts just enough to realize that the woman _had_ to be Yuuri’s mother before another, taller woman spoke up behind her:

“Mom, English.” She looked amused, curly, brown hair that was partially bleached, pulled back by a purple bandana, five piercings in both ears, both rings and studs.

Mari Katsuki looked so different from her brother, and yet, there were some unmistakable similarities. Like the dark brown eyes.

“Oh!” Yuuri’s mom interrupted herself at the reminder, then smiled fondly, planting a kiss to the top of Yuuri’s head, which she barely reached even with him sitting down, “Of course, English. Please, forgive me.”

“It’s okay, mom.” Yuuri assured her, giving her middle a squeeze before standing up and stepping over the bench to take Mari’s hand, giving her what could only be described as a sibling hug, placing his free hand on her shoulder as she did the same to him. “ _Konnichiwa_.”

“Good to see you, kid.” Mari muttered, ruffling his hair.

“I apologize for the interruption.” Yuuri’s mom told Viktor and the Gryffindor Quidditch team, bowing politely. “Katsuki Hiroko, I’m Yuuri’s mother, and I’m very happy to meet you. And good to see you, Phichit-kun, how have you been?”

Phichit grinned widely, giving her a thumbs-up, “All well, Hiroko-san, and good to see you. Surprising, too.”

“Oh, I suppose it’s a bit of an odd time to visit.” Mrs. Katsuki agreed, chuckling softly. “But we had to visit eventually to talk about Yuuri’s graduation with him, and visit Yuuko-san’s parents, and Minako-senpai told us Yuuri was going to play Quidditch today! We couldn’t pass that up.”

She smiled broadly, beaming brighter than the sun, and then she turned.

To Viktor.

And her smile somehow only grew wider, radiating warmth and light as if she was single-handedly responsible for illuminating the universe.

“You must be Vicchan!” she exclaimed delightedly, sitting down on the vacant spot on the bench beside him to take his hand into both of hers, her eyes deep and hazel with speckles of gold, very similar to Yuuri’s, “Dear, I’ve been waiting to meet you for months, Yuuri’s letters can only tell me so much.”

“Damn,” said Mari Katsuki before Viktor got the chance to free his tongue, which had gotten stubbornly stuck to the roof of his mouth due to overwhelming amounts of feelings he was having towards the incarnation of loveliness that was Yuuri’s mother, “I thought Yuuri was being a sap when he wrote your hair was silver, but it really _is_.”

“I told you.” Yuuri murmured, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth while Mari rolled her eyes at him. Viktor unavoidably blushed at that, but managed to dislodge his tongue to speak. Or rather, squeak.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Katsuki.” He congratulated himself for not sounding entirely like a mouse with its tail stuck in a trap. It wasn’t far off, though.

“Oh, you’re so sweet!” she cooed, causing his blush to deepen beyond his control, “But, please, call me Hiroko, Vicchan.”

“O-okay.” Viktor agreed, nodding dumbly as something warm and comfortable settled in his chest, blossoming and spreading, making his fingertips tingle.

It was only then that he noticed Hiroko’s hands were warm, bordering on hot. Much like Yuuri’s. Firm and sure, and more than likely held within them the power to burn the word at her will. Like Viktor believed Yuuri could.

Now, at last, he had an explanation to where it all came from. It still, however, didn’t explain _why_.

“Yeah, don’t bother with honorifics.” Yuuri’s sister agreed, reaching out to shake Viktor’s hand as Hiroko let go off it. “I’m Mari, nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” Viktor agreed, finding it easier to compose himself when he had gotten over the initial shock. “Will you be watching the game from the staff stands, or…?”

“Oh, yes, Professor McGonagall generously offered us to sit with her and Professor Cialdini.” Hiroko smiled widely, clasping her hands together enthusiastically, turning to her son. “And Yuuri, later today, or tomorrow, we need to go over a few things concerning your upcoming graduation. I hope you will find time for me in your busy schedule.”

“Of course, _okaa-san_.” Yuuri agreed, sitting back down as she made room for him between herself and Viktor, tucking in on his remaining breakfast. “Are you staying in England until then, or…?”

“No, we need to go back to Japan in between.” Hiroko smiled fondly, patting the seat on the other side of her where Mila had moved to make room for Mari. “Your father wants to be here for your graduation, too. And speaking of graduating,” she looked over at Viktor, eyes sparkling, “you should come visit us in Hasetsu during summer, Vicchan. Your parents, too, if they have the time. We would gladly have you at Yu-Topia.”

Viktor barely managed to keep the whirlwind of emotions under control, steadied only by the press of Yuuri’s hand against his lower back, grounding him. His face split into a grin, and he beamed at Hiroko, heart filling to the brim at the feeling of being so warmly and easily accepted. Like he belonged.

Like they were family.

“I’d love to, Hiroko.”

Yuuri gave his waist a reassuring squeeze, turning his head to peck Viktor’s cheek and then his lips when Viktor took the hint and turned his head to meet him. Yuuri searched for something in his eyes and, apparently finding whatever he had been looking for, smiled and kissed him again.

“See you later.” He murmured, pressing one last kiss to Viktor’s forehead before grabbing his broom and standing up. “All right, lions, let’s go!”

The Gryffindor team scrambled to obey as the entire table cheered for them, and Yuuri flashed a broad smile as he climbed over the bench.

“ _Ganba_ , Yuuri.” Hiroko told her son, looking like a child on her birthday morning, delighted.

“ _Ganba_.” Mari echoed, giving him a thumbs-up.

“ _Davai!_ ” Viktor grinned, tilting his head up as Yuuri leaned over him to place a craved upside-down kiss to his lip.

“Keep yourself warm out there.”

“I will.” He promise, waving to the team as the y left the Great Hall, joined by the Hufflepuffs with Leo and Guang-Hong in the lead, Takeshi turning to wave at Mari and Hiroko in turn.

“That’s so Yuuri, always worrying.” Mari noted, scooping up some scrambled eggs to place on the clean plate that had appeared in front of her. “But it _is_ freezing outside, I’ll give him that.”

“That fur cloak is going to keep you warm, though, isn’t it, Vicchan?” Hiroko inquired, smiling, indicating the thick cloak Viktor was sitting on, the one he had brought with him from Russia, “It looks warm. A bit heavy, perhaps.”

Viktor hummed, smiling back, “It’s warm, and not unbearably heavy.” He assured, carding his fingers through the thick, black hair. “I got used to it at Koldovstoretz.”

“Hiroko-san, Mari-san!”

“Oh, Yuuko-kun!” Hiroko shot up from her seat, beaming as she jumped over the bench to pull the Hufflepuff Head Girl into a motherly embrace, slipping over to rapid Japanese. Mari offered Viktor an apologetic, half-amused look.

“You can just speak Russian to her when she forgets herself.” She told him. Viktor grinned.

He decided he liked Yuuri’s family very, very much.

 

**

 

“Good morning Hogwarts, staff and students and honored guests – I hear we have our favorite Head Boy Yuuri Katsuki’s family bundling up with the Headmistress today to witness the spectacle that is Gryffindor and my darling Hufflepuffs going head to head in this _beautiful_ weather. As always, let’s assume Katsuki has nothing to do with that particular fact. For the sake of your asses-“

“Dinnet!”

“Good morning to you, too, Professor Okukawa, fancy having you here today as well! Like I said, for the sake of your ass _ets_ , I hope you have all prepared yourselves with thick cloaks and warm drinks, because as you might have noticed, it’s colder than Siberia today!”

“No, it’s not.” Viktor objected through his scarf, properly bundled up like the rest of the audience. “Not even remotely as cold as in Siberia during winter.”

“I really don’t want to find out myself.” Chris shuddered, huddling closer to Louis. “Let’s hope the Seekers catch the Snitch quickly today.”

Viktor shook his head, “Don’t count on it. It’s going to be very hard to spot in the sunshine reflecting against the snow.”

“The standings after three games of Quidditch have Ravenclaw in the lead, Gryffindor second, Hufflepuff third and Slytherin last. Even with two whole games played. What a shame. I’m going to bet my position as commentator that the standings won’t look the same after today, either, and not only in terms of points.”

“Gryffindor is easily going to close the gap, if their game against Slytherin was any indication to what’s coming.” Sara admitted, somewhat sullenly. “But I’ll be damned if Hufflepuff manages to catch up.”

Seung-Gil snorted, “With Katsuki on the field, Altin at the hoops, and Chulanont going up against Ji for the Snitch? Hufflepuff will be lucky to score a single goal.”

Viktor silently agreed. Hufflepuff hadn’t done badly against Ravenclaw in November, but they had still only managed five goals.

And Gryffindor… well, they were on a whole other level.

“Our whole strategy for the final game against Gryffindor in May depends on this match.” Sara reminded them, focused. “Stay alert, try to find patterns in their strategies.”

“Yuuri will be anticipating that, you know.” Viktor couldn’t help but comment, offering a sheepish grin behind his blue and bronze scarf. “He’s going to make it just as hard for us as he is for Hufflepuff.”

Sara nodded grimly in acknowledgement.

“And here cometh ye roaring lions of fire and flame!” Thora announced as the Gryffindor team made their way out onto the field led by Yuuri, who had his head held high while the rest of the team were shuddering with cold, trying to keep composure, “Chasers Mila Babicheva and Kenjirou Minami…”

“Is Yuuri immune to cold?” Louis wondered, squinting, “It doesn’t appear to be affecting him at all… or then he’s just very good at hiding it.”

“Look at his mom, though.” Chris said, handing Louis the binoculars he had been looking through, pointing towards the staff stands, “His sister is probably about to freeze her fingers off, but Mama Katsuki appears to be completely oblivious to the temperature. She looks like she’s taking a warm bath.”

“Maybe he has inherited abnormally high body-temperature from her.” Viktor suggested, reminded of warm hands and trying to make the whole thing sound less suspicious than he actually found it. “He’s usually quite warm, even in cold weather.”

“An inherited thing, then?” Louis pondered, nodding.

“…and team captain, Chaser Yuuri Katsuki! I can’t for the pattern of Merlin’s underpants understand how he _doesn’t_ look like he’s about to freeze to death like a normal person. Aaaaand on the other side we have the most fearless, fearsome badgers, my light and happiness, with Chasers Emil Nekola and Haruka Endoh…”

“Perhaps we aren’t imagining things, then.” Chris concluded, eyeing Yuuri through the binoculars.

Viktor’s gut tightened uncomfortably, and he shifted, willing the unsettling feeling away. He had wondered Yuuri’s unreal warmth for months, and having others noticing it felt like an unwelcome intrusion. Like they were trespassing into private territory, something Viktor wanted to protect and cherish as something intimate. Private.

“…and team captain, Leo de la Iglesia! Tall and proud as he steps forth to shake Katsuki’s hand – the captains appear to be in high spirits today; it builds for a good game.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Louis grinned as Yuuri and Leo fist-bumped before taking their positions and mounting their brooms. “I have a good feeling about this game, too… as a game. Hufflepuff won’t surrender without a fight. It might not mean well for us, though.”

Viktor silently agreed, watching Yuuri as he rose into the air to take his position opposite Leo, ready to go for the Quaffle. Guang-Hong was visibly shivering on his Nimbus 2001, shifting slightly in a futile attempt to keep warm, while Phichit on the other side of the field wasn’t even holding onto his broom, too busy rubbing his hands together and blowing warm air into the space between them. He was also grinning broadly at his fellow Seeker, giving him thumbs up.

It was hard to tell whether Guang-Hong’s blush was solely due to the cold or something else as well.

The stadium fell silent, waiting…

_Fweeeeeeet!_

Viktor wasn’t alone in starting the game by dropping his jaw to the ground.

 

“Look at that, huh.” Mari muttered into her scarf, amused, her mother giving up a delighted laugh beside her. “Typical Yuuri, always going around surprising people.”

“He has a habit of doing that.” Professor Cialdini chuckled, arms crossed over his chest.

“Now _that’s_ a show-stopping start if I ever saw one!” the commentator announced, baffled, and Mari’s lips tugged into a smirk, “Captain Katsuki snatches the Quaffle and looks like he’s about to fall off his broom, but _no_ , he’s just making his way straight to the goal posts upside down, and that _has_ to be the fastest goal ever scored in the history of Quidditch at Hogwarts! Poor Nishigori doesn’t stand a chance against his fellow Mahoutokorian there; that’s 10 points to Gryffindor right from the first breath, and Captain de la Iglesia quickly recovers to catch the Quaffle…”

“Oh, he’s become so much more confident since I’ve last seen him play!” Hiroko smiled, delighted, clasping her hands together like she always did when she was excited, “He stays true to his Mahoutokoro heritage, too, look at that!”

“That’s a clean and _very_ effective tackle from Katsuki that does no harm to Nekola other than him losing the Quaffle – watch and learn, Chasers, that’s how it’s done! – and Minami is there to catch it, Gryffindor already going in for a second shot, Babicheva, Minami, Babicheva…”

“He’s distracting them, huh?” Mari figured, watching the Hufflepuff players, who were obviously keeping an eye on Yuuri, “Because of that flashy first goal.”

“Absolutely.” Professor McGonagall agreed. “They’re too busy keeping on him to notice what the rest of team is doing.”

“Staying true to his former school.” Hiroko mused.

“Takeshi should notice, in that case.” Mari pointed out, then frowned. “Then again, when he finally does, Gryffindor will already have switched tactics.”

Hiroko merely hummed happily in reply.

 

“Were not even half an hour into the game and Gryffindor is _owning_ the pitch – it’s time to take it back, my Puffskeins, come on! – with the standings 80 to zero after Katsuki’s third goal for the day. Mama Katsuki must be mighty proud, and just like her son, she appears to have somehow missed the fact that _it’s colder than on the North Pole_ right now…”

“This…” Sara shook her head slowly in overwhelmed disbelief, “…they’ve changed strategies since the game against Slytherin.”

Viktor silently worried with her. Yuuri had started the game with abnormally short reaction time, having almost reached the goal posts before anyone else had realized the match had begun, and after that, Gryffindor had continued to relentlessly score one goal after another.

…but oh, how hard it was to worry when Yuuri looked so _good_ playing.

“Nekola, de la Iglesia, Endoh, de la Iglesia, they’re reaching the scoring area, Nekola grabs the Quaffle and _throws-, noooooooo way!_ Otabek Altin is here to give Seung-Gil Lee himself a challenge to the title of best Keeper, even with Nekola putting a clean spin on the ball Altin flicks it away as if it were an annoying fly, and Katsuki sweeps in to grab the Quaffle, immediately passing to Minami, Babicheva joins and they’re _flying_ , oh Merlin, I seriously can’t keep up, I’m growing old, my hair is greying, my teeth are falling out-“

“Dinnet, for Merlin’s sake!”

“At least Merling is older than me, I suppose, so he wouldn’t be able to keep up, either. I feel better already! The Quaffle somehow finds its way back to Mianmi after a long series of distracting passes and he-, _no_ , he _looks_ like he’s about to throw, but that’s actually another pass to Babicheva, who _scores!_ Another 10 points to Gryffindor!”

“I just, just…” Chris shook his head, gesturing towards the field, “…just look! Don’t the Hufflepuffs realize what they’re doing?”

“I don’t think they have the time to.” Viktor thought, having needed about twenty or so minutes to figure it out. “And I bet that the moment they do, Gryffindor is ready to move onto strategy number two.”

It was obvious, and brilliant. Hidden in plain sight if one didn’t have the time to look closely enough.

Yuuri had made sure to start the game flashy, drawing all attention to himself, all gazes, Bludgers, everything, leaving Mila and Kenjirou more than enough room to score, and Otabek all the space he needed to focus on his task of blocking the hoops. Then, they switched, drawing all attention to Kenjirou, who took the spotlight with a couple of show-off goals, and now, all attention was on Mila, who was showing off all her skills while expertly dodging Bludgers.

All while Yuuri and Kenjirou were scoring.

“That, Hogwarts, is a hundred points to Gryffindor half an hour into the game!” Thora exclaimed into the megaphone over the roaring appreciation from the Gryffindor stands, “My badgers are fighting bravely, but it’s not quite holding up against the unpredictability that is the Gryffindor Chasers. Yet, de la Iglesia is smiling brighter than the sun as he encourages the team before grabbing the Quaffle with pure determination…”

Sara cursed under her breath, “It only requires Phichit to catch the Snitch now to give them a fifty-point lead over us.”

“It’s going to be more than a fifty-point lead when they’re done.” Seung-Gil stated, arms crossed over his chest.

Viktor really would have worried more for his house and his team, he _would_. However, it was damn near impossible to do so when Yuuri was positively _radiating_ on the broom, high-fiving Mila and Kenjirou before preparing to take on the approaching Hufflepuff Chasers.

He was beautiful.

Confident and in his element, relishing the sensation of the wind rushing past him, chest more than likely swelling with pride for the Gryffindor team. It was his last year at Hogwarts, and he was undeniably going all out. No holding back, no restraints.

Yuuri looked _free_.

Viktor wiped away the wetness in his eyes with his scarf, smile playing behind the fabric.

 

“The Quaffle doesn’t even make it to the scoring area before Minami is there to stop it from entering, passing to Katsuki who dodges a Bludger while passing to Babicheva, just _look at them go!_ In the history of Quidditch games at Hogwarts, I have _never seen_ Chasers performing as if though they can read each other’s minds like this, and not only that, but my darling Hufflepuffs are taking on the biggest challenge of their lives and _living_ for it, look at that pure willpower and determination!”

“Well, you have to give them that.” Mari shrugged, watching Emil Nekola securely catching the Quaffle from Takeshi and setting off towards the Gryffindor side with a huge grin on his face. “They’re losing so badly, and they only keep going in high spirits.

“Of course they are!” Hiroko smiled broadly, “They’re delighted that Yuuri and the team considers them a threat enough to go on offense with no holds barred. It spurs them on.”

Mari blinked, turning her head to look at her mother.

“That’s… terribly insightful of you.” She remarked, amused.

Hiroko laughed, “Just experience, dear.”

“You’ve played Quidditch, Mrs. Katsuki?” Professor Cialdini inquired with interest. He got a delighted giggle in reply.

“I played Beater at Mahoutokoro many, many years ago.”

 

“This just in: the English national Quidditch team is retiring, and the Gryffindor house team are to take their place! That’s a mind-blowing 150 points, and _wow_ , they’ve never gone all out like this before – you should be proud of yourselves, Hufflepuffskeins!”

“Oh, yes, they should.” Sara agreed, bewildered as Yuuri and Leo took the time to exchange a shoulder bump before taking their positions again, Haruka grabbing the Quaffle. “This is on a whole new level of going all out, even for them.”

“Do you think they held back against Slytherin, then?” Sherwood wondered. Viktor shook his head.

“No, they went all out against them, too.” He was certain. “But they’ve had time to perfect things since then, with Kenjirou on the team and all.”

“And with _you_ on the field in May, we might as well have signed our doom.” Sara stated, causing a bright blush to blossom on Viktor’s cheeks. “If there is one person here that Yuuri’s going to face with no holds barred, it’s you, honey. We’re going to have to really, _really_ work for it if we want to give them a real challenge in turn.”

“Yeah, Leo wasn’t entirely prepared for this, I think.” Chris agreed. “Frankly, I don’t think anyone was prepared for it, save for Mama Katsuki over there.” He gestured towards the staff stands. “You can see from a mile away that she looks _content_.”

“Maybe she played Quidditch herself during her Mahoutokoro years.” Viktor pondered, trying to imagine the sturdy, undeniably muscular woman atop a broomstick, soaring through the air. “I somehow think she could have been.”

“Well, Yuuri does appear to be the spitting image of her.” Chris agreed. “They’re probably similar in more ways than the glasses and the facial features.”

_The warmth_ , Viktor’s mind supplied. _The pleasant heat_.

He kept the thought all to himself, private, intimate. He didn’t want to remind the others of the earlier discussion, didn’t want them to remember the speculations concerning Yuuri and Hiroko’s supposedly above-average body-temperatures.

Internally, though, he let his mind wander…

_What? How? Why?_

…and was he only overthinking everything?

 

“Katsuki, Babicheva, Katsuki, Minami, Ba-, _nope_ , Minami keeps the Quaffle, and that’s _brilliant diversion_ number fifty-eleven there, Katsuki grabs the Quaffle instead and throws it long before the scoring area, and there’s Mi-, _no_ , there’s _Babicheva_ to direct it to the right-most hoop with a picture perfect Finborough Flick! She’s apparently not to be outdone by her soulmate, Sara Crispino, who scored a similar goal against my Hufflepuffskeins back in November…”

Yuuri grinned, high-fiving Mila as they made their way back over to Gryffindor’s side of the pitch while Haruka grabbed the Quaffle from Takeshi for another go at their hoops. There really was no holding back any longer – Viktor and the Ravenclaw team had to know what was awaiting them in May, and rest assured, Yuuri was going to push himself and the Gryffindor team to the limit for that face-off.

They had worked relentlessly, harder than ever before, and Yuuri had decided that the Cup was going to be theirs. Period.

Thus, determined to give it his all, Yuuri Sloth Grip Rolled to avoid a Bludger and caught the Quaffle upside-down from Kenjirou who had managed to snatch it mid-air from a pass between Emil and Leo. He saw Mila in the corner of his eye and tossed the ball up to her, sweeping left and allowing her to take the lead in a Hawkshead Attacking Formation. Mila held the Quaffle securely beneath her arm as she veered to the side to avoid a tackle-attempt from Haruka, passing backwards to Yuuri.

He had a clean line to the middle hoop if…

“ _Sweet Merlin’s plum pudding, what a goal!_ ” Thora all but screamed into the megaphone as Yuuri looped around to give Mila, Kenjirou, Mickey and Tanner a thumbs-up for a job well done, “That’s a… a… I don’t even know, a diagonal Finborough Flick, a clean spiral shot right through the middle hoop, and that’s another ten points to Gryffindor! Katsuki isn’t messing around, and whatever magic he’s worked on the Gryffindor house team, it’s working very, very well. Sara Crispino is undoubtedly biting her nails by now, and I do wonder what Viktor soon-enough Nikiforov-Katsuki is thinking.”

Yuuri kind of wondered the same, even as he felt his heart flutter at the thought of actually placing a ring on Viktor’s finger. He really would have to wonder and think of rings _later_ , because they had a game to ace and some scores to completely and utterly crush.

“Tanner, Mickey, back to front, number three!” he shouted as he passed Mickey, pointing from the goalposts towards the Hufflepuff-side of the field, “Mila, Kenjirou, over and under!”

It never failed to make his chest swell with pride and fondness over how easily seamlessly followed instructions, changing strategies as though changing gloves. Tanner fell back to keep Bludgers at bay from Otabek, should the Hufflepuffs make it into the scoring area, while Mickey kept an eye on the Beaters, Melvin and Hecate, to see to it they didn’t send bludgers directly towards Kenjirou. Meanwhile, Mila dropped downwards as if her broom had suddenly lost all its magic, and Kenjirou steered up, ready to strike from above.

Keeping a straight face and concentrating hard, Yuuri looped around and followed the pattern of the Quaffle as it was passed between the Hufflepuff Chasers, deducing Leo was the one meant to take the goal shot, keeping a little more to the right and off the immediate line of fire.

If Yuuri had thought correctly, the Quaffle would never even make it to Leo.

With his mind set, he chose his target…

…and headed left.

 

“Endoh, Nekola, watch it Emil, Katsuki’s coming in fast-, _what the actual hell?!_ ”

“Dinnet, I _swear-!_ ”

“That makes two of us, professor! King of Diversions, the Gryffindor Chasers, strike again, and Babicheva is going for the goal posts, passes to Minami right before dodging a Bludger, Minami passes to Katsuki, _who scores_ , holy shit!”

Viktor’s jaw had fallen to the floor somewhere, gaping along with most of the audience while the Gryffindors were screaming themselves hoarse from ecstasy in their stands on the opposite side of the pitch.

“Brilliant.” He managed to breathe out, awed. “Absolutely brilliant.”

Chris was apparently incapable of producing speech and only nodded. Sara, meanwhile, looked ready to sign her own death sentence.

It had been perfectly seamless. Yuuri had gone in for what looked like a tackle towards Emil, who had fallen back in an attempt to pass the Quaffle to Leo, as Kenjirou was blocking Haruka from above. Just when he threw the Quaffle, Yuuri had veered to the side while Mila had shot right up and snatched the Quaffle, tossed it to Yuuri who threw it straight back to her once she was out of the hot zone.

Well thought out and practiced, every little bit of it, Beaters included. Nothing that looked that smooth could possibly be a spur-of-the-moment thing.

Which placed Gryffindor in the lead with an insane 200 points to zero ( _zero!_ ), and it was barely lunchtime.

“We have our work cut out for us.” Sara muttered for the tenth time since the game started, looking almost unwillingly impressed, yet blushed up to her ears a second later when Mila flew past them back towards the Gryffindor side and blew her a not at all subtle kiss on her way.

Viktor grinned at that, while Chris offered a suggestive wolf-whistle. Sara buried her face in her scarf.

Thora didn’t miss it, either.

“Oh, sweet Madam Puddifoot’s rainbow muffin, look at that! Mila Babicheva throws Sara Crispino a kiss and looks utterly pleased with herself. The world order has changed, my achne is cured, the sun is shining, and we are blessed by Merlin for this obvious and very much public declaration of love-“

“ _Dinnet, the match!_ ”

“Yes, they are a _fantastic_ match, glad you see it, too, professor! Meanwhile, de la Iglesia is going for the Gryffindor scoring area, and he actually manages a shot-! _Nooooo_ , not in a million and one galaxies is he getting it past that dimensional shield that is Otabek Altin, albeit he has to catch it with one hand, and directs the ball to Katsuki, who passes to Minami, Katsuki, Babicheva, Katsuki, Babicheva, Mina-, _damn it!_ Slow down, will you, I can’t keep up with your Woollongong Shimmies, though I admit it’s a _marvelous_ thing to behold, dear Dumbledore is it ever, and Katsuki is the one to place Gryffindor high up on the scoreboard with 210 points!”

It was Yuuri’s turn to blow Viktor a kiss after that, which had Thosa cooing relentlessly into the megaphone and driving Professor Okukawa to the edge of insanity in the process. Viktor’s heart fluttered at the gesture, and he grinned, sending one right back, which Yuuri made a show of catching and placing to his heart before re-taking his position on the field.

He blushed only when Chris nudged him and wiggled his eyebrows knowingly.

Suddenly, Viktor was looking forward for the game to end. Solely because of the overwhelming urge to kiss Yuuri senseless.

Well, that, and to prevent Gryffindor’s score from climbing much higher…

 

Phichit grinned, watching the display beneath him as he circled the pitch, keeping an eye out for the Snitch and the other on Guang-Hong, should he happen to spot it before him. Yuuri had really outdone himself this year, and so had the entire team, Phichit thought. Himself included.

They had trained efficiently and determinedly, and while Yuuri’s strategies were many and varied in difficulty on a scale from easy to insanely hard, everyone had done their absolute best to master them. Everyone wanted to win.

If there was one thing the entire team had in common, it was the fact that they really wanted to win, and that they really hated to lose. Yuuri more so than anyone else, even though he would never admit it aloud. Phichit knew anyway.

It really was unfathomable what they had been able to achieve, he had come to realize. Yuuri, Mila and Kenjirou functioned like clockwork, seamlessly, elegantly, intricately, many small parts coming together to pass the Quaffle through the opposing goal hoops over and over again. Tanner and Mickey easily changed positions with a simple gesture from Yuuri, and Otabek used every trick in the book to keep the Quaffle from going through the Gryffindor hoops.

He mainly changed strategy depending on whether he had a Beater protecting him or not, and the change was next to unnoticeable if one didn’t know where to look. Or rather, _how_ to look.

The same went for Phichit. He knew he was protected with half an eye from Tanner and Mickey the entire time, depending on what side of the field he was on, but while looking for the Snitch, he also had to mind Bludgers (and the opposing Beaters) and, of course, the opposing Seeker. When he finally started chasing the Snitch, however, he would have the entirety of Mickey’s attention on him, and then, he could pretty much forget about everything else and just go for it.

Sure, if the wanted to spice things up, he could have used a few diversion maneuvers to see if Guang-Hong would fall for any, but as Yuuri had given him no indicators that such things were needed, Phichit kept circling the pitch instead.

Then again, when May rolled around, he should probably have a few of those ready for Yuuri’s sweetheart. He should also be careful not to fall for any of Viktor’s stunts, either, as he probably mastered brilliantly flashy maneuvers such as the Wronski Feint (not that Yuuri had told him if Viktor could, but Phichit had seen the fey-like Russian on the field twice, and he was certain anyway).

Casting a glance at Guang-Hong, who was squinting in the sunlight as he attempted to locate the Snitch, Phichit did a lazy look and started moving in the opposite direction for variety’s sake. Passing the Ravenclaw stands, he quickly found the Quidditch team bundled up in thick cloaks and broad scarves near the front, making sure to lock eyes with their Keeper in particular just to grin broadly at him before resuming his search.

Viktor transferring to Hogwarts had been a blessing, Phichit had come to decide. Not only for Yuuri, but for those around the two of them.

Because, as far as Phichit had understood, Chris and Louis had gotten their final push into a relationship from Viktor, and hadn’t it been for all those study sessions in the library that had left Phichit and Seung-Gil alone time and time again…

…well, then he wouldn’t be grinning like the happy fool he was twenty-four seven, as he was doing presently.

It had been a _great_ Hogsmeade-date, that Saturday after Valentine’s. It had been especially delightful to see Seung-Gil’s expression of utter horror when he, for a brief moment, thought that Phichit was dragging him towards Madam Puddifoot’s (Phichit had, in fact, taken him to _The Morning Dew_ teahouse instead, the place Yuuri favored).

Speaking of Yuuri and Viktor, the two hadn’t visited Hogsmeade since before Christmas, which Phichit perhaps would have found more odd, and perhaps concerning, if it wasn’t for the fact that Yuuri and Viktor had become more and more private in general in the span of a few months.

Which wasn’t really any odd, either, since Yuuri had always been a private person. Maybe Viktor just preferred that, too, seeing as his entire face lit up and eyes started sparkling like diamonds whenever he left the room hand in hand with Yuuri.

However, Phichit _was_ determined to get Yuuri outside the castle walls for at least one last butterbeer at _The Three Broomsticks_ before their final school year came to an en-

_Oh!_

Time to get to work.

 

“Phichit has spotted the Snitch!” Viktor just had the time to exclaim before Thora caught on.

“And it looks like Chulanont has his eyes on the prize, people, he’s zooming right across the field, look at that bolt of fire leaving but smoke in his wake as he goes! Ji is currently closer to the Snitch, and he has finally spotted it, too, but Chulanont _is faster_ ; come on, Guang-Hong, you can do it!”

“No, he can’t.” Viktor shook his head, watching Phichit glue himself to his broomstick in order to close the gap and fly right past the Hufflepuff Seeker. “Phichit’s broom is faster, and his technique is better.”

“And while everyone’s distracted with _that_ ,” Chris hummed, gaze drifting to the Chasers, “Yuuri enters the scoring area.”

“ _Katsuki scores 250 points for Gryffindor!_ Merlin’s beard, Gryffindor is as much on fire as Mila Babicheva’s hair, and there’s apparently nothing to be done to stop them! Holy flobberworm, my head is _spinning_ , and that’s Chulanont changing direction to follow the Snitch that’s now going towards the stands-, _break already, Phichit, are you fucking nuts?!_ ”

Professor Okukawa, for once, appeared too busy screaming her own lungs out to have the time to lecture Thora. Viktor had forgotten how to breathe.

“He’s going to crash!” Hilary squeaked, peeking through her gloved fingers.

It really did look like it, because Phichit was really, _really_ to the Hufflepuff stands, hand stretched out, giving no signs of slowing down-

…before he suddenly braked harshly and dropped downwards.

Viktor’s heart jumped back into action, and he let out a long sigh of relief. Inwardly, he could already hear Yuuri scolding his Seeker for, once again, being reckless.

“The Snitch is elusive as ever today, and Chulanont determinedly continues his pursuit – stop giving me cardiac arrest every single time, you _lunatic!_ – and Ji is looking for shortcuts, tight on Chulanont’s heels, while Katsuki is turning himself into a one-man attacking formation and letting Kenjirou Minami through to _score_ , bloody hell, I swear to Merlin-!”

“ _If you don’t stop swearing right now, Dinnet, you will not be commentating the Gryffindor–Ravenclaw game in May!_ ”

“Not fair, professor, you’ve been cursing in Japanese right beside me for five years, I just don’t have a second language to choose from!”

“Don’t get smart with me, young lady-!”

“ _Chulanont is a hair’s width from the Snitch and there’s another goal coming from Gryffindor in the form of a hurricane that is the Gryffindor Chasers – they are going to set a Hogwarts record here today, and no one can convince me otherwise!_ ”

“Hogwarts record?” Viktor caught on, counting quickly in his head, “If Phichit catches the Snitch after another goal, the game will end with 410 points to zero in Gryffindor’s favor. Is that a record?”

“It’s not an all-time record for one game, no, and not a record gap between the winning and the losing team, either.” Seung-Gil informed him, eyes glued to Phichit as he made a sharp turn to follow the Snitch. “But it’s definitely a record _time_ for achieving this high a score.”

“Katsuki scores 260 for Gryffindor, un-freaking-believable! See, professor, I can contain myself, barely – and Chulanont apparently takes this as his cue to push himself right to the balance point of his broom to reach-!”

Madame Hooch’s whistle blew half a second later.

The Gryffindor stands were cheering themselves hoarse as Phichit held his arm high in the air in a gesture of triumph. The Hufflepuffs, meanwhile, were bravely shouting their support for their own team, even when they had been utterly and thoroughly defeated with a staggering…

 

“410 to zero! _Gryffindor wins with a total of 410 points to Hufflepuff’s zero_ , and damn, I’m trying to be mad and I _can’t_ , because I have never, ever seen anything like this during my almost complete seven years at this place! What a showcase of skill and hard work, and no damage has apparently been done to any friendships, either; Nishigori has Katsuki in a headlock to mess up his sweaty hair, and that’s Ji and Chulanont hugging it out with de la Iglesia joining in…”

“Ah, how refreshing!” Hiroko mused, smiling broadly as she continued clapping, “Much Mahoutokoro to be found in Yuuri’s strategies. It really takes me back.”

“He’s always been good at details and seeing how everything fits and works together.” Mari shrugged, applauding along. “Their opponents weren’t as refined in their tactics.”

“I would perhaps had expected more of Takeshi here, but then again, his father wasn’t ever really that much for detail on the Quidditch field, either.” Hiroko pondered as the teams landed on the ground to more formally shake hands, which quickly turned into a hug-party instead. “Oh, but perhaps Yuuri would still have some time and energy left for a small session with me today, do you think?”

Mari offered her a flat look, “It’s _Yuuri_. It takes more than a short game of Quidditch to wear him out. Like someone else I know.”

Hiroko hummed, giggling softly, “Don’t flatter an old woman, dear.”

Mari snorted.

 

**

 

Viktor wasted no time running straight to the Gryffindor dressing rooms, zig-zagging through the crowd of students that parted slightly to make for him, probably sensing the pure determination to _get there already_ as he passed. The dressing rooms were just within his vision when he was blessed with the sight of the door opening to reveal a familiar figure in red, with raven hair and a fancy Japanese broomstick in hand.

Grinning, Viktor poured on his speed.

“ _Yuuuuu-uuri!_ ” he half-shouted, half-whined, Yuuri barely managing to catch himself and catching Viktor as he jumped straight into a warm (sweaty) embrace, forcing Yuuri to let go off his Yajirushi (Phichit probably caught it, anyway), “What was _that?_ ” he attempted an accusing glare and a pout, but the glare felt half-hearted, “I _told_ you we are going to beat you in May – why are you making it unnecessarily difficult?”

Yuuri blinked once, then burst out laughing, the corners of his eyes crinkling with unhinged delight and amusement, and he had to lower Viktor down to the ground as he tried to catch his breath, clutching his stomach. The rest of the Gryffindor team was also laughing, Phichit patting Viktor’s shoulder and handing Yuuri his broom back before making his way over to Seung-Gil.

“If you want that trophy, you’re going to have to work for it, just like us.” Yuuri scolded him just as half-heartedly (and a little bit seriously), placing a kiss to the tip of Viktor’s red nose. “And _that_ was just us scoring a lot of goals. And Phichit catching the Snitch, of course.”

“Well, that was the last time he did during his time at Hogwarts.” Viktor huffed confidently, crossing his arms in childish contempt.

“Don’t be so sure, sugarplum!” Phichit smiled sweetly, blowing Viktor a kiss before linking arms with Ravenclaw’s Keeper to head towards the castle.

“What he said.” Yuuri grinned, pulling down Viktor’s scarf to kiss both of his cheeks before coaxing him to tilt his head down a little bit to peck his lips until Viktor was giggling against his mouth. It made Yuuri looked terribly pleased. “Come on, let’s head up to the castle. I need a bath, and then I need to see _okaa-san_.”

“What was it she wanted to talk to you about, anyway?” Viktor asked curiously, looping his arm through Yuuri’s as they headed up the hill, “Also, I’m joining you for a bath. I’m freezing.”

“I’m not entirely sure, only that it has something to do with graduation. Traditions, probably.” Yuuri shrugged, smile brightening when Viktor couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss his cheek. “And also, I told you to stay warm.”

“Then warm me up.”

“I was planning on it.”

 

**

 

“Don’t be afraid, son. It’s a part of you.”

“Sure. A part that’s out of control.”

“I suppose it does have a mind of its own at times, but it never has and never will work against you. Only _with_ you and _for_ you.”

“Mom, I’m _burning!_ ” Yuuri whispered, voice shaking. He was sweating, flushed all over, his skin crawling in a desperate attempt to contain a fire beyond his control, hot and unrelenting, coursing through his veins like a flood.

“That makes two of us.” Hiroko said gently, clasping her hands together and resting them in her lap, smiling softly, perfectly calm even when her son seemed to be a breath away from being consumed by flames from within. “Close your eyes, honey, and take deep breaths. Follow my voice.

You’re not alone, Yuuri. Ever.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this the part where I should go "I owe you at least an explanation for my absence from the Internet, other than what I already wrote in the notes of chapter 19"? Good, because I'm going to need nerves to write the next part. I have only recently started working up the courage to talk about this more, so I'm going to try and take some baby steps.
> 
> I have a condition called Myalgic Encephalomyelitis, ME for short. More commonly known as Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I'm unfathomably lucky to have a mild version of it, and I can function mostly normally and manage everyday tasks, but I do it while swimming through jelly. I often have brain fog and headaches, and even when I'm exhausted to my bones I sometimes can't sleep, and end up in a fever-like state (read: zombie) that can go on for days. Recently, my short-term memory has shown signs of not being very good, at least not as good as it used to be, and I'm much more easily distracted from tasks that require focus than I've been before. I can still focus, but it wears me out (badly), and I have to find other things to do before going back to what I was originally doing. In short, the signs are pointing towards the inevitable that my ME is getting worse.
> 
> Hence, I fell into a (hopefully) short but deep pit of depression, and I've been going to therapy 1-2 times a week to keep my head above water. I have so much to do, so much I want to do, and it's very, very frustrating with a head that can't keep up the same way it did about three years back. Even a couple of years back when I finished my first thesis.
> 
> Writing is literally therapy for me. I rarely have the energy to talk very long, or hold long conversations, but it's freeing to think and see the thoughts appear on a screen or on paper using my hands. It's soothing. I might not always have the energy to do my very best even if I want to and constantly try, but I'm going to have to learn to live with that too. I was very, very scared when I posted my first piece of fanfiction in English years ago, and it's never stopped being nerve-racking.
> 
> But I have been blessed with many heart-warming comments, and many kudos, and big or small, they all make me very, very happy. They make me want to keep writing, even when I'm exhausted. Which, as you might have understood, is most of the time beyond my control.
> 
> Hence, I've also been very bad at answering comments lately. I will catch up with that, I promise. Mostly to myself a promise, because I want to read them all over again <3
> 
> Sorry for pouring personal problems into this, but I have to start trying to be more open about my ME. Especially if it's going to get worse and affecting my life more than it already is. I have to embrace it somehow, and I want people around me to know and not be left in the dark about it, either. Also, I really want people to understand that it's a real condition and not a made-up illness that can be treated by "getting a grip." I've tried that. It didn't work.
> 
> Aaaaand let's leave that there!
> 
> Next chapter will appear in April, because I have to finish my thesis, and the date is approaching very, very fast. But boy, next chapter is... well... *watches burning piece of paper* ...yeah, that.
> 
> Thank you endlessly for your continuous support, and your patience! Many, many hugs to all of you ^.^ <3


	21. Spread Your Wings and Leave the Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets unfold like wings... feather by feather.

_”Mrs. Katsuki… I fear I bring only bad news.”_

_“…pray tell, madame.”_

_“Your son… the chance that he’ll make it is very, very slim-“_

_“But there is a chance.”_

_“Mrs. Katsuki, it’s next to_ impossible _to keep him alive without a whole s-“_

_“It’s not, madame. Trust me, my dear healer, and hand me my son.”_

Fire.

All-consuming flames, hot and relentless and-

“Breathe in, Yuuri, slow and steady, follow me…”

The simple inhale only made it burn brighter, colors bursting behind Yuuri’s eyelids as he struggled to keep them shut, willing himself to do as told and follow his mother’s voice. It felt like his skin was barely restraining itself from bursting, cracking open to let the flowing fire through to incinerate him to ashes. He couldn’t feel his hands, his arms, his feet, his legs… nothing.

Nothing but the intensity of the infernal heat.

“…and breathe out, honey, you’re doing so well…”

Yuuri felt the flames surge from his lungs up his throat, stinging his throat before it grazed his tongue, licking his lips with the exhale. Head spinning and heartbeat going at a pace that had to be inhuman, he really had to steel himself.

_Just do as she says…!_

“…breathe in deep and plunge deep within, come with me…”

It did feel like he had jumped head-first into a volcano, like he was about to choke on something akin to molten magma. Fire crackled within the fisted palms of his hands as he desperately attempted to focus on doing as told and hoping, _dearly_ hoping his willpower to be strong enough to make it through this time around.

“…breathe out, and up.”

The exhale escaped Yuuri with a startled yelp as the tears that had been beading in the corners of his eyes dissolved into steam and salt on his cheeks, stinging his skin. He forced them to stay shut, clenched his hands only to feel the flames within escape through his fingers.

“Don’t be afraid, Yuuri.” Came the soothing voice of Hiroko Katsuki as a dry sob tore itself from Yuuri’s throat in desperation, leaving him gasping in agony, fighting against the urge to give into the fire, flare and burn to dust. A gentle hand, just as hot as his own, reached out to take one of his and clasp it where it was shakily resting on his knee. “Together, okay? I’m with you. Breathe in, relax…”

_Easy for you to say_. But Yuuri couldn’t speak.

He couldn’t feel his tongue, either.

The red beneath his eyelids turned bright white as he fueled it with another inhale. Yuuri quickly opened his hand to clasp his mother’s, seeking more support for what was about to happen.

…whatever it was. He had no idea, and it frightened him more than he ever wanted to admit, and perhaps not as much as his mother thought it did.

“Feel it tickling the base of your spine? A little spark?”

…

Yuuri nodded. Yes. There was something akin to a firecracker there, sizzling and waiting to burst.

Hopefully it wouldn’t be too painful.

“Good. Concentrate on that, and breathe out with me on one, two…”

_Three_.

The sizzling sensation shot up his spine like a jolt of lightning and he was unable to hold back a breathless gasp as he felt a tug on his hand and followed-

…wait.

Were they… flying?

“Where are we going?” he heard something that vaguely sounded like his own voice ask. He had probably asked. And even though he couldn’t see his mother’s smile, he _knew_ it was there, hearing it in your voice.

“To the beginning, honey. To the moment in my life I regret the most… and that I still can’t find in myself to regret for a single day.”

 

_“Hiroko, darling, are you sure about this?”_

_“Absolutely certain, love. It’s time to pass it on – it’s been with me long enough, don’t you think?”_

_“But how… how will it affect Yuuri? How will it affect_ you? _”_

_“There’s no way to know that – I have no memories of how it was given to me. But we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?”_

_“…I can’t talk you out of this, so I won’t. Be careful.”_

_“Always, love. Always.”_

 

“To the beginning?” Yuuri thought he shook his head, eyes still closed, trying to focus his thoughts, “To when you saved my life?”

“To when I cursed you.”

“Don’t say that, mother, please.” His voice started to sound more and more familiar, like himself, shades of gold flickering in glowing flames beneath his eyelids. “You saved my life. That’s what you did.”

Hiroko sighed softly, tightening her grip on his hand slightly while guiding him through something that felt like surprisingly pleasant warm clouds.

“I had hoped that, perhaps, my fate wouldn’t also be yours.” She admitted, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb. “But in hindsight, it seems it was inevitable.”

Yuuri swallowed thickly at her uncharacteristically fragile voice.

“…it has its perks.”

The small laugh it coaxed from his mother was mostly a sob.

“I can’t argue with that.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Ready?”

It was Yuuri’s turn to let out a nervous laugh at that.

“I’ll never be. Show me, please.”

 

_He was small, all of a sudden. A mere infant, barely able to open his eyes to see the blurry lines of his mother’s facial features above him. Yuuri was tired, so exceedingly exhausted and drained he couldn’t move._

_Hollow. Empty, aching with an enormous void inside._

_A mere shell._

_Hiroko’s eyes were filled with grief and worry, but there appeared to be a spark of something akin to determination in them as she opened her palm. Taking a deep breath, she brought it to her mouth, and as she exhaled, a brightly shining ball slipped through her lips to land in her hand. The sphere was golden, shimmering, a burning flame burning brightly within it._

_Steadying herself, she brought the fireball to Yuuri’s chest and promptly pushed it through his ribcage._

_He choked on it, coughing out bright, white smoke, tiny arms and legs flailing in protest at the scorching intrusion. He shrieked._

_Gone was the void, and in its stead…_

 

“You only need to accept it, Yuuri. You need to embrace that it’s a part of you, and you won’t suffer from the heat ever again.” Hiroko squeezed his hand again. “It really is that simple… not that any of it is simple.”

The sadness in her voice didn’t go unnoticed.

“I’m sorry, Yuuri.” She whistpered, continuing before Yuuri got the chance to reply or find words to say. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, and it was my fault you were born… the way you were.”

Feeling his legs aching under him, Yuuri dared to slowly open his eyes to look at her. Tears were slipping down her cheeks generously, lips trembling as she sniffled softly. He swallowed with a dry throat, feeling the fire simmer oddly pleasantly beneath his skin, warm and comforting in contrast to the scorching, unforgiving inferno he had been consumed in for the past weeks. Months.

“I don’t blame you, mom; not now, and never will.” He had to cough as the words scratched against his sore vocal chords, forcing them out. “I would have died if you hadn’t made that decision.” He blinked rapidly a few times, attempting to wet his sand-dry eyes and focus simultaneously. “And had I died…” he trailed off.

Silver hair and a bright smile were vivid in his mind. Had he been more hydrated, he might have shed tears along with Hiroko, but as it was, it stayed a sob.

Hiroko managed to follow his train of thought either way, a smile tugging on her lips.

“Like you said yourself, it does have its perks. Use it to your advantage – if not for yourself, then for Vicchan.” She gave his hand one last squeeze before letting go, steadying herself. “Though I have to say I believe you’ve already done so, if the brightness of your inner fire was any indication. I won’t ask, though,” she quickly added when Yuuri opened his mouth, cheeks blossoming as he bowed his head slightly, “you may tell me if you want to, when you’re ready.”

“…it feels… better, already.” Yuuri admitted slowly, feeling the heat simmer pleasantly under his skin, warm and comforting. “It’s not painfully hot any longer.”

“You’re learning to embrace it.” Hiroko nodded, smiling softly while wiping the last of her drying tears away with her sleeve. Then, she pulled out her wand and held it out to Yuuri in an open palm. “Cherry wood, brittle, same length as yours… as you well know. You’ll need it.”

Yuuri blinked, jaw slackening in surprise as he stared at the wand, then at his mother in shock.

“Wha-…” he shook his head, “Why?”

Hiroko’s smiled widened a fraction, “Because my wand holds a feather from the bird that gave her life so that my great, great, great grandmother would live. It has been in my family, our family, for centuries…” she furrowed her brows, “…might be over a millennium by now, actually. It will help you, and will do you much more good than that dragon heartstring.” She nodded towards the wand insistently. “You’ll see. Grasp it.”

Still somewhat hesitant, Yuuri swallowed hard, slowly reaching out to take it. His heart was pounding a million miles an hour against his ribcage, blood thrumming in his ears as he shakily, carefully grasped the handle in his right hand.

The silent gasp was entirely involuntary, all due to the immense, sheer _power_ that surged through him in an instant.

It felt as if his soul was about to burst through the bindings of his flesh, as if it was singing in joy of the reunion with the only physical piece left of its own origin.

Rejoicing the feeling of being _whole_.

Yuuri was burning up and he had never felt more alive.

“The wand helps you control it.” Hiroko explained, or rather, stated the obvious as her smile had brightened at the expression of revelation on Yuuri’s face. “It bends to your every will – it’s there to support you. Learn to work with it – what do you want, Yuuri?”

…

…what _did_ Yuuri want?

And no matter how many times he turned the question over in his head, his thoughts stubbornly led his to one person and one alone.

“Fall back on it, and you will fly. Close your eyes.”

Feeling much more confident than several hours ago, Yuuri closed his eyes with an inhale, then exhaled and let himself fall. Down, down into the ocean of flames beneath him…

…and then, he _was_ flying.

He was soaring through the burning sea on a vermillion bird of fire and flame, singing in a soprano so beautiful Yuuri almost forgot how his lungs worked and what the rhythm of his heartbeat should be. Digging his fingers into the golden and scarlet feathers, he buried his face into the phoenix’s neck, seeking comfort in her warmth.

“Help me keep Viktor safe.” was the only thing he found himself able to whisper. “Please.”

The bird cooed beneath him, the sound vibrating pleasantly all the way through Yuuri. Only then did he notice the song it was singing to be a terribly, _terribly_ familiar one.

_Stammi vicino, non te me andare  
ho paura di perderti_

_Le tue mani, le tue gambe_  
Le me mani, le mie gambe  
e i battati del cuore  
si fondono tra loro

_Partiamo insieme  
Ora sono pronto_

… _I am ready now_ …

…but was he really ready?

**

 

“410 points!” Thora Dinnet exclaimed right in Yuuri’s face with a grin so wide on her own that Viktor was certain she could have eaten a banana lengthwise without much trouble, “410 points _before lunch_ , Katsuki! Merlin’s striped underpants, I _really_ tried to be mad at you, but that was a god-damn- _fantastic_ game and I even got to have food on time!”

“Sorry, not sorry?” Yuuri offered with a not-at-all apologetic grin, handing her and Viktor a butterbeer each that he had summoned with a flick of his wand, grabbing the last one himself, “Happy to see you all decided to join us tonight despite everything.”

“Are you kidding, Captain Hotpants?” Thora snorted, and Viktor was very, very glad he hadn’t yet had the time to take a sip of his drink or it would probably have ended up on Yuuri’s crimson robes, as he was unable to hold back a coughed-out laugh when Yuuri’s cheeks blossomed scarlet while Thora continued unfazed:

“Hufflepuff might have lost, but _boy_ , what a way to go down! Between us,” she motioned for them to lean closer, whispering conspiratorially: “There’s been _much_ fanboying in the common room this afternoon, I tell you – even though they didn’t manage a single goal, they recognized that they’ve never played a game as good before. It was an inspiring challenge.”

“They all played really, really well.” Yuuri agreed, taking a sip of his drink and slinking an arm around Viktor’s waist, much to Viktor’s delight, automatically snuggling closer to the pleasant warmth beside him. “I kind of wished I’d be here to see them in action next year again, too.”

“No kidding, aye?” Thora clinked her bottle with his in understanding, pulling a hand through her ash blonde curls that were entirely out of control, “I’m gonna miss the games like crazy, especially Okukawa. My right ear is going to be so terribly lonely without her screaming into it. Still,” she took a good gulp of her drink, probably in a silent salute to her favorite (Firewhiskey-loving) professor, “one more game to go.” She narrowed her eyes at them, pointing a finger in warning. “And it better be an epic one, or you’re going to have to make it up to me with a rematch.”

There was a hint of a smirk tugging at Yuuri’s lips, “So sorry to disappoint, but it’s not going to be very interesting, I’m afraid. Gryffindor’s name is already on the trophy.”

Viktor kind of absolutely hated his boyfriend for somehow managing to let go off his butterbeer bottle and leave it peacefully floating in the air as he attempted to jab (or rather, tickle) him in the ribs to make his opinion clear.

“ _I’m_ sorry, but you’re completely and utterly wrong.” He stated, stretching to his full height and hoping the very few inches separating him and Yuuri in length were enough to make Yuuri feel small. “Because that Snitch is mine, and you’re going to lose.”

“Holy Merlin, I love this, somebody get me a barrel of popping corn!” Thora called out, gaining attention easily with her loud and clear and familiar voice, perfect for commentating and also, as Viktor had come to notice earlier, favorable for singing, “Anyone else looking forward to the Katsuki-Nikiforov showdown in May?!”

“How does she do it?” Viktor murmured as the Gryffindor common room erupted in cheers, shouts and wolf-whistles.

“With a ginormous amount of charisma and a will to do what she likes best… making people happy, really; uniting them.” Yuuri murmured back, apparently in the midst of thinking his words through, pulling Viktor closer to kiss his cheek with pleasantly warm lips. “Make no mistake though, I _am_ looking forward ton face you in May, and I’m still walking away with that trophy.”

Viktor’s heart might have doubled its pace, fluttering thrillingly in his chest, but that didn’t stop him from pursing his lips and puffing up his cheeks, pouting much like a petulant child.

“I’ll still kick your ass.”

“ _That’s_ what I’m talking about!” Thora stated excitedly, patting Viktor’s shoulder, “I believe in you, Nikiforov, and I’ll, uh…” she winked at him, grin turning feline in a way that rivaled even Chris, “…leave you to it.”

Yuuri’s cheeks much resembled the Gryffindor banner even as he grinned back at Thora while Viktor was busy turning into a tomato.

“Before you do, Thora,” Yuuri spoke, stopping her from leaving at the last second. Thora turned around, tilting her head curiously as Yuuri’s features softened into a smile that did funny things to Viktor’s poor heart, “thank you. For making us all grin until our cheeks hurt and laugh so much that we’re all now blessed with amazing stomach muscles.”

“Ditto!” Viktor quickly had to chime in, because it was very, very true – Thora had _never_ failed to make him grin and laugh so much he had a hard time staying on his broom at times. Thora’s eyes lit up in surprise and joy, a wide, brilliant smile blossoming on her freckled face.

“Well, you know, thank _you_ for providing me with all the inspiration to keep doing the best I can.” She replied, sincere even as she winked playfully. “I meant what I said though – you’d better be going all out in May, because _I_ will, and I will roast you to smithereens over an open fire if you don’t.”

“No need to worry about that.” Viktor assured, Yuuri nodding in agreement. “We will.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it, lovebirds.” Thora waved it off. “I also wasn’t kidding about counting on that wedding invitation.”

Thora effectively used Incendio on both their cheeks as she turned and headed over to Kenjirou and a few other fifth years, probably to tell him she thought he had done an amazing job.

Once again leaving with the last laugh.

A very well-earned one at that.

 

**

 

Yuuri was warm.

Not pleasantly burning like Viktor had gotten used to during the past months, but instead comfortingly warm. His heartbeat was still slow beneath his ribcage, chest rising and falling with each steady breath.

A heartbeat at least twice as slow as Viktor’s own.

And there was no way he had been imagining everything, Viktor figured, which had his head spinning with one possibility after the another, one more ridiculous than the next. Because Yuuri had definitely been bordering on feverishly hot during most of winter, and before that, he had just been abnormally… warm.

But this… this was a _new_ kind of warm, and he had a hard time putting his finger on exactly how.

Viktor hadn’t thought much of the warmth back then, back when he started getting close to Yuuri, but he did think about it daily as of late. Especially after having felt that same kind of mysterious warmth radiating from Yuuri’s mother.

Part of him itched to know what it was all about, and if it _was_ about anything at all, but another part of him was all too much of a chicken to actually ask Yuuri about it when he had never brought it up himself-

“Viktor?”

…right. He had momentarily forgotten that Yuuri could somehow tell, even in his sleep, when Viktor wasn’t sleeping. He must have been exhausted from the intense game of Quidditch and whatever it was that he had needed to do with his mother that had taken the entirety of the afternoon and a little more, but Viktor was awake and somehow, Yuuri just _knew_ he couldn’t sleep because his brain was working on overtime. Again.

Well, at least there was no point pretending he was asleep, either.

Viktor carefully lifted his head from where he had tucked it comfortably on Yuuri’s shoulder to look at him, Yuuri reaching for his wand to light the oil lantern on the bedside table so they could see one another.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice thick and hoarse with sleep, blinking bleary eyes open to squint at Viktor, clearly concerned, “Or, well, that’s kind of a really stupid question, but…” he trailed off sheepishly, slowly lifting a hand to gently caress Viktor’s cheek, “…you know.”

Pondering his options, Viktor nodded as he worried his bottom lip in contemplation. He could lie, and Yuuri would see right through it but still let it slide. Accept that Viktor didn’t want to tell him just yet and trusting he would whenever he was ready.

…or then he could tell the truth, and either accept that Yuuri wouldn’t tell him anything, give him an unsatisfyingly vague answer that was the truth only half revealed.

…or, Yuuri would tell him everything, and Viktor would have to face a truth he might not have been ready for yet. Or something in between, as it was always hard to tell with Yuuri – a master when it came to surprises in general, and especially when it came to surprising Viktor.

… _gulp_.

What to do?

“You’re warm.” He suddenly blurted out before actually having internally decided whether he was going to speak the truth or not. His tongue (and curiosity) apparently made the decision for him.

Yuuri’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second and Viktor’s might have panicked.

“I mean-!, I just…” explanations got stuck in his throat, unwilling to dislodge, “…you were, uh… really, _really_ warm… before, I mean. And now you’re just… warm. In a different way, but I don’t know how.” When Yuuri continued looking at Viktor as if hit by a particularly strong Confundus charm, Viktor’s fingers dug into the bedsheets covering Yuuri’s stomach, trying to halt his reeling head.

“Sorry, I… I’m probably thinking too much.” He murmured, burying his face into Yuuri’s neck, cheeks flaring in embarrassment. “You don’t have to say anything, I’m being stu-“

“No, you’re not.” Yuuri’s soothing words against his hairline sent a shudder up Viktor’s spine. “You’re not stupid. On the contrary, you’re very observant.” A gentle hand stroked up and down Viktor’s back as Yuuri pressed a kiss to his head. “I’m… quite warm, yes, and I’ve been far warmer than usual this winter, though I’m still not entirely sure why.” He let out a long, slow sigh, threading his fingers delicately through Viktor’s hair.

“My mom… she didn’t come here to talk about graduation. Or, I should say, not _only_ about graduation, because we did talk about that, too. But the real reason she made the trip was to teach me to… well, keep my body-temperature at a decent level, among other things. I gather it’s working, since you’ve noticed a difference.”

…he hadn’t been imagining anything, then. Viktor wasn’t quite sure whether that particular piece of knowledge was comforting or not.

He worried his lips, gathering courage to ask:

“Why?”

It came out so quiet he wasn’t entirely sure Yuuri heard it at all, but even if he didn’t he could probably guess what it was Viktor had said. Yuuri swallowed audibly, tightening his grip around Viktor to hold him closer, turning them over so he could rest his head in the crook of Viktor’s neck instead. For once leaning on Viktor and not the other way around.

“I… it’s complicated…” he replied uncertainly, sounding a little frustrated at himself because of it. Viktor would have to help him along.

“As complicated as your spell?”

He felt Yuuri’s mouth twitch minutely at that, and counted it as a win.

“Probably more complicated than my spell.” He revealed, a little more certain. “I’m not sure I understand everything myself, but…”

Viktor waited with bated breath while Yuuri searched for words, listening intently as he turned his head a little, happy to find Yuuri hesitantly lifting his own to look at Viktor. Though the look he was given made his heart ache, because he had never seen Yuuri so nervous before, not even back when he had revealed he had been protecting Viktor ever since the beginning of the school year.

It was another _kind_ of nervous altogether. Yuuri looked downright fragile, as if he would crack and shatter into a million splinters of glass at any wrong move. He swallowed thickly again, gaze not budging from Viktor’s, but it looked like he had to use every ounce of willpower he had not to look away. He drew a shaky breath before finally speaking:

“…I know that when I was born… I was only alive because of my mother. It sounds weird, maybe, but that’s how it was. Had it been anyone else, I wouldn’t have made it, but my mom is…” he frowned, “…not entirely ordinary. She wanted me to live, and because it was her that had given birth to me, she could somehow keep me around long enough to…” he furrowed his brows, frustration evident as he tried finding words, “…to keep me alive, simply put.”

It seemed that by asking Yuuri about the warmth, Viktor was now faced with the third option he had imagined: facing a truth he might not be ready for. Then again, he wanted to know absolutely _everything_ that Yuuri was willing to tell him, and damnit, he was going to take it.

“So… what was wrong, when you were born? With you?” Viktor asked quietly, treading his fingers through Yuuri’s hair as soothingly as he could and hoping Yuuri didn’t notice them shaking too much, “Why should you have been… not alive?”

For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to place Yuuri and the word “dead” in the same sentence.

Yuuri licked dry lips, pursing them together.

“I… lacked something. Something essential.”

Nope. Viktor wasn’t ready for this _at all_.

“…what was it?”

 

_“Keep your secret within the family, Mrs. Katsuki.” The healer shook her head slowly, still utterly and completely baffled by the revelation Hiroko had brought her. “What you have done… it goes against so many of the supposed boundaries of magic…” she gestured helplessly._

_“I strongly believe that love reaches much further than the, as you call them, supposed boundaries of magic into territories we have never even dreamed of exploring, at least not before.” Hiroko told her warmly, cradling a soundly snoozing little bundle in her arms. “And I suppose I’m quite an unusual case.”_

_“Unusual is not the correct word here, Mrs. Katsuki, with all due respect. You’re one of a kind.”_

_“Why yes, aren’t we all?” Hiroko chuckled as the bundle heaved a sigh, looking like it was slowly punching himself in the face with small, small fists. “And besides, I’m not one a kind in the sense you’re referring to either, Miss. My son, however, is.”_

_“What you have done is…” the healer was still opening and closing her mouth in disbelief, attempting to embrace the evidence before her eyes; that the boy that had been born with a certain death sentence was very much alive, breathing, squirming in his mother’s arms, probably getting hungry, “…it’s extraordinary, Mrs. Katsuki. It’s like a… reversed horcr-!”_

_“Please, don’t speak such a foul word in the presence of still-innocent ears, madame.” Hiroko pleaded gently, the healer’s mouth immediately snapping shut. “What I did was far, far away from the creation of that horrible thing you’re implying. I’m not bound to Yuuri, and he isn’t bound to me, in any way. I simply gave him something that was once given to me so that he could live.”_

_“You gave him part of your_ soul _, Mrs. Kat-,” the healer halted mid-sentence, processing Hiroko’s words over again in her head, “Wait, what do you mean you gave him something that was once_ given _to_ you? _”_

_“I’m trying to tell you, madame, I didn’t give Yuuri part of my soul.” Hiroko said calmly, rocking Yuuri back and forth when he started squirming more, unable to stay still. “Not my own.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Mother of Merlin, it took forever and it's kind of on the shorter side, but it's here! My inbox is so full and I feel so very, very bad for everyone waiting for a reply I desperately want to give (I've read every single one, and I've read them all over again on bad days, because there has been quite a few of those lately, and damnit if they don't manage to make me smile time and time again <3), so I'm going to start going through them during this week, little by little. 
> 
> It has taken me over a month (is it almost two now?) to only write this chapter and the next chapter for my Pokémon AU-fic, and oh boy... First it was the workload (and the exhaustion, but I'm afraid I can't get rid of that one), and now, I haven't been physically able to do anything but basically stare at the ceiling (or a wall) for almost three weeks due to stress-induced inflammation in the back muscles. I don't recommend trying it out, and if you have, I do hope you had a speedy recovery and that it didn't spread to your legs, because it has spread to mine, so while I can now write (except for when I'm high on meds or when sitting down gets too painful), I still can't dance... and as the leader of a dance group, that doesn't feel okay. At all.
> 
> Hence, this chapter has been written in small parts at a time, which is probably noticeable, and it has also been edited in small parts at a time... which is also, probably, noticeable. It wasn't perhaps entirely how I planned it from the start but... the characters (read: mostly Hiroko) kind of took over it, and I'm weak, so I let them.
> 
> I don't dare make promises regarding the time for when the next chapter will appear, but unless my back decides to be a prick, I'm hoping I will be able to post within a month again.
> 
> Thank you all so, so very much for your understanding, your patience, your love and support - we're closing in on the last chapters of this monster of a fic (go compare the current word count to that of the HP books - I had a minor heart-attack when my friend pointed it out to me), but not quite finished yet!
> 
> Much love, and many hugs to all of you, and I wish you good health and all the very best! <3


	22. Follow Your Heart, They Said...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ilia and Ludmila have had their ups and downs, mountaintops and deep dark valleys.
> 
> Viktor learns more about Yuuri.
> 
> And Hiroko...

_Many years ago…_

”Excuse me, um, sir?”

Ilia blinked, startled out of his thoughts at the sound of a voice he was certain he had never heard before, but that he was also certain was addressing him. Slightly confused, he turned his head to look over his shoulder, only to immediately drown into a pair of eyes so piercing, sparkling blue that he could have sworn he had dived straight into the Arctic Ocean. Or rather, he could have sworn that if it weren’t for the sudden warmth he felt spreading through him, originating from the vicinity of the butterflies wreaking havoc in his stomach.

The girl could have been no older than… than her late teens, surely, and Ilia instantly felt like a disgusting old creep. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away, couldn’t do anything but turn in his seat to helplessly admire the golden hair neatly fastened into an elegant bun, the soft cheeks dusted with the lightest rosy pink…

… _creepy old man!_ he chastised himself inwardly. _And you have a boyfriend!_

Still. Helplessly shuddering before the beautiful. When was the last time he had felt like that?

“May I help you, miss?” Ilia found himself asking, unable to hold back a smile as the endearing rosy color on the girl’s cheeks deepened. She mirrored his smile with something akin to relief overcoming her features, and Ilia’s heart was fluttering madly in his chest completely without his consent.

The young woman had spoken just about three words to him and his defenses were rapidly crumbling to dust.

“I don’t mean to impose on you like this, sir, but I couldn’t find the librarian and wondered if…” she tilted her head slightly, looking hopeful, “…if you would help me find the law section?” her smile turned ever so slightly apologetic, “I’ve never been here before.”

Ilia couldn’t remember standing up. All he knew was that he suddenly was on his feet, smile brightening as the young woman blushed without restraint despite herself. He also had a strong feeling his own face wasn’t faring much better.

“Of course, miss.” He replied politely, gesturing towards the door to the study area he occupied together with a handful other researchers. “This way.”

“Thank you, sir.” The young woman smiled softly, unabashed curiosity flickering in her glacial eyes in a way that made Ilia’s heart skip a beat. “It’s very kind of you to show me the way. Gentlemen are a rarity.”

Ilia was quite certain his cheeks were on fire, but he managed a shy laugh, feeling much like a teenager.

…had he perhaps been a teenager when he last had felt like that?

“It’s my pleasure, miss.” He found it in himself to tell her, even if he was suddenly second-guessing every word he said and desperately hoping he wouldn’t offend her. As his reply was seemingly pleasing to the young woman, however, Ilia decided to push his luck. “And please, don’t call me sir. I’m Ilia, Ilia Nikiforov.”

His heart did Sloth Grip Rolls mercilessly on repeat as the had-to-be-Veela looked even more pleased at that.

“Ludmila Turchaninova.”

 

**

 

“It should have been an impossibility for me to be born… or rather, to be conceived at all.” Yuuri spoke slowly, stirring his midnight genmaicha absentmindedly. “So mom has told me, at least. She had already given birth to Mari, and it was well-known in the family that the phoenix only grants a new life once.” He frowned. “Well, at least it _was_ , until proven otherwise.”

Viktor’s hand was still on the spoon in his own teacup, as he was far too focused on understanding what Yuuri was telling him. He had asked for it, after all.

“So…” he furrowed his brows, desperately trying to understand and ignoring the fact that it was three in the morning, “…there wasn’t… enough left for you?”

Everything about the question he had just uttered sounded entirely absurd. It also made him slightly nauseous, and more than a little scared.

Yuuri, however, merely shrugged.

“You could put it that way, I suppose.” he replied as if it was nothing, and Viktor’s stomach might have inexplicably flipped then. “Mom was certain there was a reason the phoenix had wanted her to have me, so she went through with the pregnancy even though the phoenix hadn’t been able to supply me with a whole, intact soul, having given Mari everything it should have had to offer.” He took a thoughtful sip of his tea, licking his lips. “Mom waited for the phoenix to recover from my birth before separating giving its soul to me.”

He swallowed, frown deepening, “I think… I believe she expected to die, then.” Viktor stilled completely at that, hands trembling slightly as he momentarily forgot how to breathe. “But for some reason or other, she didn’t. I think she intended to give the phoenix to me entirely, all of it, but it seems it didn’t work quite like that.”

It shouldn’t have worked _at all_ as far as Viktor understood, even though he wasn’t exactly going to complain about the outcome.

“What…” he tried slowly, willing his jumbled thoughts to organize themselves into something more comprehensible so he could formulate at least a single question, “…what does it do?”

The answer would surely be far more complicated than the inquiry, but Viktor wasn’t going to back down when Yuuri was finally, _finally_ willing to talk.

Yuuri’s frown deepened further at that, as he was probably searching for words for something he surely hadn’t spoken about very much ever, and even less in English. Viktor _was_ stubbornly attempting to learn Japanese and Yuuri, sweet and kind Yuuri, was trying to learn Russian in turn. As it was, though, they were only on a conversational level with each other’s native languages, and it wouldn’t help Yuuri (or Viktor) very much with the topic concerned.

“It… keeps me alive, simply put.” He replied only a tad uncertainly, clearly not entirely happy with his own answer, and Viktor might have fallen in love all over again for the simple reason that Yuuri unquestionably really, _really_ wanted to tell him everything he could. Even the parts he didn’t fully understand himself.

“I don’t have a soul of my own, so the phoenix provides it entirely. It’s bound to me by whatever magic mom used to transfer it and seal it in my body.” He still didn’t look particularly pleased with himself, but it was all genuine and carefully worded, and yes, Viktor definitely fell in love just a little deeper once again. “Mom says the phoenix’s soul is mine and that I’m one with it… so saying that I don’t have a soul of my own isn’t entirely true either, I guess. I didn’t always have one, but I do now.” Another contemplative sip of genmaicha.

“So, because I was born without one, mom gave the phoenix’s soul to me. Pressed it right into my chest.” He unconsciously rubbed his fingers over said spot as he spoke. “She told me the healer was flabbergasted.”

Viktor gave up a shaky laugh at that, “I wouldn’t blame her.”

A ghost of a smile flickered over Yuuri’s lips, “Me neither. As for your question… well, other than keeping me alive, I’m not entirely sure what the phoenix does. I suppose it keeps me warm, too, uncomfortably so at times.” Viktor’s mouth might have twitched in the corners at that. “And it keeps my pulse slow, for some reason. I never really thought about it before, but your heartbeat is about double the speed of mine, if not more…”

It was inevitable for a blush to creep onto Viktor’s cheeks at that, remembering all the nights and quiet moments between them that he had spent wondering about Yuuri’s heartbeat, slow and steady. Allowing the soothing rhythm to lull him to sleep.

“…and I think it does something to my magic, though I’m not sure exactly what or how.” Yuuri admitted finally, furrowing his brows again. “It’s hard to tell when it’s all I’ve ever known, you know? I’m aware that mom has always been strong, far stronger than any other witch or wizard I’ve ever come across, so…” he shrugged, “…if the phoenix has _nothing_ to do with it, I might as well eat my broomstick.”

He paused for a moment while Viktor processed all the new information quietly, his honey-sweetened Darjeeling black tea kept warm only due to a handy little household spell his father had taught him once. Instead of actually drinking the tea Viktor drank the light floral scent coming from it instead, watching Yuuri reach for his wand on the table, twirling the cherry wood between his fingers.

“Mom gave me her wand.”

…?

Viktor blinked, confused, staring from Yuuri to the wand, which looked exactly like remembered it should.

“…so, uh… you have two now?” he asked, not quite following.

“Huh?” Yuuri turned his gaze to him, “No, no, mom has my wand. Our wands are identical, save for the core.

Oh. Viktor was certain he had made the appropriate shape of that with his lips even though no wound came out.

“Phoenix feather?” he guessed tentatively. When Yuuri nodded, another revelation struck him, and he continued, “From the phoenix inside you?”

Yuuri nodded again, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Exactly. Mom says it’s going to help.” He regarded the wand contemplatively for a moment longer before placing it back down onto the table. “It probably does, thinking about it. I feel more at ease… which must mean the phoenix is also more at ease, and hence, I’m not scorching hot any longer.”

Viktor’s natural instinct, for some reason, was to beg to differ, and he would have on any other occasion but-

…actually, why the Merlin not?

He decided it was all well worth it, because the look on Yuuri’s face when Viktor’s lips stretched into a devious smirk was priceless.

“I beg to differ, darling.” He scolded playfully, tea completely forgotten as Yuuri was, always, far more interesting than anything else in Viktor’s close proximity ever. “You can’t sit around shirtless like that and try to convince me you’re not scorching hot.”

Oh, that was a _very_ lovely shade of Gryffindor-scarlet on Yuuri’s cheeks! Unfortunately for Viktor, it was also _Yuuri_ , and he knew very well that he had spectacularly lost the game he started when a devastatingly sultry smile settled on his boyfriend’s lips.

What a way to go, though.

“Well, sweetheart, you must be cold with all those goosebumps prickling your skin…” Yuuri commented, and the shudder that made its way up Viktor’s spine under the smoldering gaze was entirely involuntary.

How had they gone from earth-shattering revelations and phoenix souls to full _Eros_ in the span of ten seconds again?

Viktor might have attempted to speak, but it was impossible because Yuuri looked much like the cat who got the cream (and Viktor’s tongue, and heart, and everything), grin widening at his speechlessness.

“Hm,” he mused, eyes gleaming with mischief, “I thought I would have to warm you up, Vitya, but you’re red all the way down to your chest. Whatever should we do about that?”

…Viktor might have had a few ideas. Yuuri seemingly had more.

 

**

 

_About as many years ago…_

Eight years.

He was eight years older than her.

Actually, it felt like he was a lifetime older, and Ludmila felt much like a mere child in comparison. Ilia was mature, held a wisdom far beyond his years, his mind so bright it would make Merlin blush.

And yet, despite his unquestionable brilliance, Ilia was blind.

However, like the brilliant man he was, he was also willing to open his eyes and recognize his own blindness. Recognize what he had missed right in front of him.

The result being that Ilia was no longer blind, and seeing it all dawn on him in a myriad of jumbled thoughts and emotions both loosened a tight knot in Ludmila’s chest and constricted her stomach into one further.

“I’m a fool.” Ilia whispered.

Ludmila couldn’t remember a time in her life when she had been angrier than she was at that moment, but then again, she was barely eighteen.

“You’re _not_ a fool!” she stated with whatever power and might she possessed, feeling no older than ten and much like a petulant child trying to get an adult to listen to her by sheer willpower, “You’ve been purposely blinded and deceived. You’ve been manipulated, and you weren’t _meant_ to notice anything.” She swallowed hard as Ilia’s hands slowly tightened into fists on the table. “It would take someone from the outside to see it.”

Her heart was rapidly shattering into cutting shards of glass at the lost, crestfallen look on Ilia’s handsome features. How badly she wanted to go to thei-, no, _his_ house and curse that bastard into oblivion herself!

But that wasn’t her call. It wasn’t her choice to make, or her place to decide.

Instead, she sat silent, watching as the bone-deep hurt slowly transforming into sheer cold anger on Ilia’s demeanor, and she couldn’t suppress the shiver that crept up her spine at the sight of the terrifyingly calm fury settling over him. Solidifying his resolve.

She had never seen him angry, and she was enormously relieved it wasn’t directed at her.

“I’m going back there,” Ilia finally said, and Ludmila’s heart fluttered involuntarily at the choice of word – it was the first time he hadn’t called the place _home_ , “and I’m going to tell him I’m leaving. That it’s over.” He looked up at her, gaze softening as it met hers, but the steel resolve and determination remained.

“I’m done.”

 

**

 

Yuuri’s mother and sister stayed at Hogwarts most of the following week, and Viktor found himself sitting together with Mari on the sideline watching Hiroko guide Yuuri through some kind of deep, mutual meditation. She spoke calmly in Japanese while Yuuri apparently focused on breathing steadily in and out and probably doing as told… whatever he was told.

Mari informed Viktor that Hiroko mostly told Yuuri to “breathe in”, “breathe out” and “fly”. Neither of them had much of an idea what the last one was about, but there _was_ a phoenix involved so… it probably made perfect sense to Yuuri, because he never asked.

Having sat through two sessions, Mari finally managed to convince Viktor to do something else rather than watching nothing (at least to the naked eye) happen for hours on end, and that was how he found himself in the Ravenclaw common room together with Mari, Chris, Louis, Phichit and Seung-Gil on Wednesday evening. To his delight, Mari (and Phichit) was more than happy to share stories about Yuuri.

“He set a bucket of water on fire when he was three… and by that, I mean he set the water inside the bucket on fire, not the actual bucket.” She shrugged as if it was nothing at all while everyone but Phichit busied themselves with picking their jaws up from the floor. “Really, he mostly set things on fire since he was about three months old, and he was placed in the grass to play, it grew at least ten inches and flowers literally sprouted into bloom if he touched them. Mom was like that too, though, so it’s not entirely surprising.”

“I’m sorry, but how do you set _water_ on fire?” Chris wanted to know, gaining support from Louis while Seung-Gil appeared to be calculating in his head at what temperature water would actually burn and not immediately dissolve into steam.

Mari shrugged again, giving them a dull look, “It’s Yuuri. If he wants to set water on fire, then he does so. He was five when he somehow managed to make a tree grow straight out of our biggest hot spring – it reached full height overnight, and Mom decided she liked it there.”

“It’s an impressive oak tree.” Phichit told them, shuffling his hamsters around so he could cuddle up with Seung-Gil more comfortably (they had apparently decided there was no point in hiding something that wasn’t a secret). “Strange thing. It’s green all year round until autumn, when it’s all colorful for a couple of days, then sheds its leaves all at once, only to be perfectly lush and green again a couple of days later. Must be because it was created magically.”

Hm…

…what magical creature did the description of the oak remind Viktor of again?

He decided to say nothing. Neither did Mari.

 

**

 

_Approximately 17 years ago…_

She was far more than a vision. Ludmila.

Of course, she was _that_ too, but she was also so much more. Ilia could have spent a lifetime listing all the things she was, and he wouldn’t make it to the end before his last breath run out.

To say she was kind, brave and headstrong was barely scratching the surface.

“Mm…. don’t stop.”

…well, he could add spoiled to the list as well, even if he probably had himself to blame for that. Not that he could bring himself to regret it for a single second.

A smile played on his lips as he bent down to place a kiss atop golden locks, taking the time to inhale the light floral scent her expensive hair products left behind.

“As you wish.” He complied, carefully continuing to massage her tense shoulders. “How are you feeling?”

Ludmila hummed contemplatively, content where she was perched on the edge of their bed, Ilia kneeling behind her, “About Merlin’s lifetime better than this morning.”

Ilia had to kiss her again at that, smiling softly into her hair, “I’m glad. Did the nausea return at work?”

“Around lunch,” Ludmila admitted, wrinkling her nose at the reminder, “and then right before I finished the last of the paperwork. It stayed away after that, though.”

As much as Ilia wanted to ask his girlfriend (and hopefully soon-to-be fiancée, if everything played out like he hoped it would) why she thought she was having those strange bouts of nausea, or if she perhaps already knew, he decided to broach the subject a little more carefully than just straight-up confronting her about it.

Because in his mind, there wasn’t really much more than one explanation anyway. They had been careful, sure, but…

He worried his bottom lip slightly before speaking, making sure to keep his tone soft:

“It’s been going on for almost two weeks now, love. Maybe its time to see a healer, if you didn’t do so already?”

Ludmila was completely still for a moment and Ilia willed his hands not to tremble as he carefully continued undoing the knots on her left shoulder. Giving her the opportunity to think. He dearly hoped she wouldn’t opt to completely change the subject, because no matter how much he valued her privacy, he was also worried.

It felt like forever before Ludmila finally moved, raising her hand to place it atop Ilia’s on her shoulder.

“I didn’t dare…” her voice was barely above a whisper, “…hope. I…” her grip tightened, but she fell silent.

Ilia shifted, sitting down with his leg on either side of her and placing an arm around her waist, happy when she gratefully melted against him. Accepting comfort was something they had struggled with, Ludmila being too stubborn to admit she needed it and Ilia feeling like he didn’t deserve it after… well, _that_.

He still hadn’t told Ludmila the breakup hadn’t been quite as peaceful as he had claimed.

Though, right then, that was far beside the point, because Ludmila was accepting comfort and he intended to give it to her. Hence, he kissed her temple, seeking her gaze to offer the smile that inevitably settled on his face whenever he was close to her.

“Let’s go together, then.” he suggested, cupping her cheek to kiss her, relieved when she relaxed further in his arms.

Heart dancing madly at the thought that the person he loved more than anyone and anything in the world might have been carrying their child.

Ludmila let out a soft sigh as they parted, and as her eyes fluttered open, there was an unmistakable glimmer of hope in them that must have been reflected right back at her from Ilia’s own.

“Okay.” she agreed. “Together.”

 

**

 

Viktor felt only slightly out of place in Professor Okukawa’s private quarters, sitting on the edge of the couch and (hopefully) inconspicuously hiding behind the butterbeer he had been offered. It helped that Yuuri was at ease beside him, and that Mari and Hiroko seemed perfectly relaxed as well.

It was just that Viktor had never really had first-had experience with an undeniably drunk Transfigurations teacher before. How she was able to look so graceful always was far beyond him at that point.

“I remember when you were,” Okukawa pointed at Yuuri accusingly, though it was probably not meant to be, “whenyouwerea, _hic_ , kid, kid.” She downed her glass of Ogden’s in one go, hand already reaching for the bottle in front of her for a refill. “I almost dropped you once, you were burning up.” She shook her head, locating Hiroko and pointing accusingly at her in turn. “And _you_ , don’t sit there looking all smug. I’ve feared for your life more time than I’ve had Firewhiskey!”

“I think you’ve had just enough Firewhiskey, Minako-senpai.” Hiroko attempted to persuade deaf ears, and not actually doing anything to prevent more of the stinging, bronze liquor from being poured down Okukawa’s throat. “And as you can see, both Yuuri and I are perfectly alive and well.”

“Well?” Okukawa echoed, fixating Hiroko with a death glare, “ _Well?!_ ”

She shot into an angry scolding in drunken Japanese (Viktor guessed), and he couldn’t hope to follow. They had spoken English the entire evening until then, solely because of him, but as Okukawa got more and more drunk, the harder English seemed to become. Hence, all he could do was give Yuuri a questioning look.

Yuuri replied with a sheepish smile, “She’s accusing mom for causing her multiple near-death experiences, inquiring as to how dad can stay so calm after everything, and, uh…” the smile turned softer, “…and she’s telling mom she loves her. They’ve been best friends ever since mom started at Mahoutokoro.”

Viktor had to do a double take, “Wait… Professor Okukawa is older?”

“ _Hai_ ,” Yuuri confirmed, much to his surprise, “by a year.”

It was somehow hard to believe that, especially as Okukawa barely looked a day older than Viktor’s own mother. Yet, he was somehow supposed to believe that she was at least ten years older.

Unfathomable.

“Are you leaving tomorrow?” Okukawa croaked out, finding her English from somewhere, clinging to Hiroko’s robes while Mari (fondly) rolled her eyes, “You should, _hic_ , stay a while longer…”

Hiroko smiled, shaking her head patiently, “We’re going to visit the Shiros and stay the weekend. There’s plenty of time to rest, don’t worry about that.”

Okukawa grumbled something in Japanese that Yuuri translated to “don’t tell me not to worry, idiot.” Hiroko seemed completely unfazed at being called an idiot, and instead plucked the glass out of Okukawa’s hand the moment it was empty.

“I really think you’ve had quite enough of that, Minako-senpai.” She repeated, and Mari was quick to move the bottle out of the way as Okukawa grasped for it, glaring daggers at her old friend. “I’ll leave you a bottle of Yu-Topia Sake if you let it be for now.”

Okukawa blinked, then leaned back in her seat with a slow (reluctant) nod. Hiroko looked pleased, while Viktor felt about as conflicted as Mari and Yuuri looked at the notion of gifting an alcoholic with more alcohol. But, perhaps, Hiroko knew something they didn’t, which was highly likely.

Perhaps Okukawa was immune to alcohol poisoning without using antidotes… or something.

“I’ll look after Yuuri-kun for you.” She told Hiroko solemnly, twirling a lock of hair around her finger absentmindedly. “Not that he needs it, but I’ll do it anyway.” She shot Yuuri a glare through narrow eyes, as if waiting for him to object. “And Yuuri will look after Viktor. I know.” Her gaze shifted over to Viktor, whose cheeks suddenly felt very warm. “I’ve seen him do it since 1st September, s’not going to change.”

Viktor’s cheeks had to be the same color as Yuuri’s, coming to think of it.

 

**

 

Makkachin whined helplessly at the foot of the bed, and there was nothing Ludmila could do save fore reaching down with her foot to scratch Viktor’s beloved poodle with her toes to try and calm her down. If she was to be of any help for the worried dog, she would have to concentrate on the shaking form of her husband.

So, she insistently pulled Ilia back against her, arm steady around his waist while wrestling her arm from beneath her to stroke his hair, ignoring the uncomfortable angle. There was an ocean of silver hair in her face and her shoulder was going to be sore later, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

They had come too far together for that kind of nuisance to deter her.

Ilia was crying a river into the pillow he had buried his face in, and for the millionth time in her life, Ludmila asked herself why she hadn’t just killed Zimin herself when she had the chance.

The answer was always the same, though. Ilia wouldn’t have approved of it.

Much had changed since then, though. Nowadays, Ludmila knew full well Ilia would take Zimin out himself without blinking an eye, because that the bastard had threatened _her_.

And more than that, he had threatened Viktor. Ilia was never going to forgive that, or let it slide.

“I’m sorry.” Ludmila was certain she heard her heart break into pieces at the breathless, torn voice she barely heard muffled into the pillow, but it was enough to stop Makkachin from whimpering, instead continuing to swish her tail from side to side anxiously. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-“

Despite everything, Ludmila got a strong urge to literally slap some sense into him. She held the urge back, settling for words instead.

“Don’t you _dare_ be sorry.” She told him in barely restrained anger, pulling him closer and lifting her head to kiss his temple, or wherever it landed in the sea of disheveled silver.

“I love you,” he hiccoughed, voice cracking and breath coming out as ragged sobs, “I love you, Lyusha, I love you-“

“I love you, too, I do.” She stubbornly assured him, pulling his hair back to kiss his cheek. “So much.”

“This has to end-“

“It will.” Ludmila stated, knowing full well what he was referring to and willing herself to erase every single doubt weighing her own mind down so Ilia wouldn’t hear them in her voice. “It will end. We will have justice, I know we will.”

Ilia was quiet for a moment, his form still, panting slightly from the exertion of having cried uncontrollably for the past half hour or so. Sniffling slightly, he reached for a napkin on the nightstand to blow his nose before turning around to embrace her. Ludmila gratefully tucked her head beneath his chin, feeling his heartbeat steadily milden its pace. A kiss was dropped onto the top of her head, and she kissed his neck in turn, appreciating the gesture.

“We’re still young, aren’t we?” she whispered, having a good inkling as to what Ilia was thinking about. He drew a trembling breath.

“You mean _you_ are still young.” It sounded like a smile. Good.

“Don’t be ridiculous, so are you.” She told him without room for arguing, snuggling close. “We’re going to get through this, we will have justice, and we’re still young.”

Ilia swallowed, pulling her closer to stroke her hair in turn.

“I love you.”

 

**

 

“Huh?” Mari blinked, looking around, not recognizing the surroundings from their apparition-trip to Hogwarts, “Where are we?”

“Northern Scotland.” Hiroko informed, already with a piece of parchment spread out on the surface of a rock, self-refilling quill in hand. “Just a quick stop.”

There was no way for Mari to miss the slight hint of urgency and worry in her mother’s voice, and she was instantly alert. And terrified.

Her mother had never sounded like that before.

“Why?” she demanded, eyeing the letter suspiciously, a deepening sense of dread pooling in her gut, “If it has to do with Yuuri, you better tell me now.”

Hiroko didn’t speak until she finished the letter, drying the ink and standing up, rolling up the paper. Then, she held it up in the air.

“I just remembered…” she frowned, worry clear on her face then, “…I didn’t think of it when we apparated to the Shiros, but something started nagging in the back of my head and I remembered it just now. Hopefully, it’s nothing.”

Mari fixated her with a sharp look, “You saw something in Hogsmeade. When we left.”

Hiroko shook her head, and the letter in her hand disappeared, like a phoenix feather burning up.

“I saw nothing. But I _felt_ something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, this chapter completely got a mind of its own in the end, but I'm going on instinct and posting it like it is.
> 
> Calm before the storm, if you will. Maybe. Depends on whatever it is Hiroko just remembered. Let's hope we don't have to wait forever until I get to share with you what it was, or if it was anything at all...
> 
> Also, can we just, you know, cancel 2018? I'm tired of this cycle of barely recovering from one illness/sickness and then immediately picking up something else. But I'm still alive, no complaints there, and so is my family and friends, so no complaints there either.
> 
> I can only hope me being ill means someone else has been healthy and well the entire year, and will continue being so.
> 
> Take care, and see you, uh... next time! ^.^ Many hugs and more love <3


	23. Dread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are several kinds of dread. The pins and needles when you're dreading what's coming. The lesser of two evils, when you choose the option you dread less to avoid the option you dread more. And the tidal wave that hits hard, fast and unexpected, plunging you into the unknown without guide nor compass.
> 
> One worse than the other.

There are several kinds of dread.

There is the nail-biting experience of expecting something you dread, such as waiting for the results of a health examination and fearing someone close to you is in the early stages of dragonpox, the kind of long-term dread that you want to be over and done with. The nerve-wracking kind you have to anticipate, emotionally torturing and cruel. The pins-and-needles-kind of dread.

Or the lesser-of-two-evils-kind, where you’re being chased by evil wizards, and your only chance of escape is jumping down a cliff into a raging river. You will dread the jump, but you dread imminent death more, and opt hurl yourself off the cliff anyway to amp up your chances of survival. There’s no time to bite your nails. Instead, your mind goes blank, your feet numb, and you keep going on pure instinct as your senses shut off, unsure how to handle the situation.

Yuuri had plenty of experience with both, he thought. Especially before he started taking the Draught of Peace. He dreaded stepping up in front of people to speak, but did it because he didn’t want to fail his education. Really, he just dreaded interacting with people altogether, but knew he had to do so on a daily basis, so he did and then ran off at first chance he got to get away from the deeply uncomfortable feeling of _dread_.

Avoiding anxiety (and thereby dread) had to be a kind of basic motivating force for humans, he had figured, as there were few emotions he could think of that were more distressing to deal with. Dread was, after all, the feeling of extreme reluctance to meet or face something, and hence an emotion you would want to get rid of as soon as possible by any means at your disposal.

Dreading the unknown was a pins-and-needles-kind of dread. If Yuuri had had a habit of biting his nails when anxious, he wouldn’t probably have any left at all as he feared the looming threat of Inferno. It helped a bit that he had a name and a face for the person, but he also knew Zimin was bound to have someone helping him, and he didn’t know who.

Teaching Chris how to withstand intrusion of the mind was a lesser-than-two-evils-kind of dread. He didn’t want to intrude Chris’ mind and see something he shouldn’t, didn’t want to risk making him vulnerable if someone with ill intent decided to take advantage of it, but it was still better that he taught Chris rather than not prepare him at all.

And then, there was that kind of dread that hits hard, fast and unexpected like a tidal wave. The one that starts like a jolt of lightning in the pit of the stomach, floods with a shudder down to the toes and to the fingertips, and crawls up the spine to settle thick in the throat like a chokehold.

That was the kind of dread Yuuri was instantly experiencing when the letter appeared in front of him in the flash of a flame. He grabbed it on instinct, and was nauseous long before he did.

His mother only sent phoenix-letters when something was of utmost urgency, and it had only happened a handful of times before. The last time, it had been a short note telling him that his paternal grandmother had passed away and that he needed to come home for the funeral. This time, he almost hoped the letter would inform him of a dead relative. Lesser of two evils and all that.

He wasn’t that lucky, of course.

Yuuri stared at the parchment for half a second longer than necessary to make sure he had read correctly before quickly pulling out the small scroll tucked into the inside pocket of his robes, grabbing the closest quill (his self-refilling one, thank Merlin) and forwarded the message to the Headmistress, Professor Cialdini and Mr. Potter. Hopefully, _hopefully_ it was nothing.

_Yuuri, I just remembered feeling something strange right when Mari and I apparated from Hogsmeade. I didn’t think much of it then, and hence didn’t write sooner, but it has been nagging in the back of my head ever since and I remember now. Just when Mari took my arm and I turned to apparate, I felt heat. That kind of scorching heat that comes from a desert, something that definitely shouldn’t have been possible in the winter, and not in this country altogether. It was brief, so quick it made no sense at the time. It still doesn’t, but it was unsettling in hindsight. I thought you should know. Stay safe, you and Vicchan both. Hopefully it’s nothing._

…hopefully.

 

**

 

Hufflepuff took the short straw against Slytherin in their final Quidditch game of the season, much to Thora Dinnet’s dismay. While the badgers bravely took the lead goal-wise, Yuri Plisetsky’s fierce determination to catch the Snitch even _once_ during the school year had been enough to make him zoom right past Guang-Hong to grasp the tiny golden ball right in front of his nose. Almost literally.

Plisetsky might have also had access to a better broom, and his technique was also undeniably better. Guang-Hong hadn’t given up without a fight, though.

The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw teams had congratulated the Slytherins on their third place (because they were nowhere close to catching up to them score-wise) and lifted the Hufflepuff’s spirits by thanking them for an entertaining match.

The outcome did mean that it really would be Gryffindor and Ravenclaw going head-to-head for the trophy during the last game of the season, but Viktor had a steadily sinking feeling in his chest that Ravenclaw’s name was not going to be printed on it. Gryffindor had too great a lead as it was, and even if Viktor would catch the Snitch within the first ten seconds of the game, it would still be Yuuri accepting the trophy and not Sara.

Still, Viktor would be damned if Phichit caught the Snitch and not him.

“Anya came to watch again, did you notice?” Mila suddenly said out of the blue, snapping Viktor out of his thoughts as they ascended the stairs from the dungeons, having visited both the Slytherin and Hufflepuff dorms after the game, “She was even at the party just now, even though Georgi was there.” She shuddered. “Creepy.”

“She was in dance class on Thursday, too, if you recall.” Yuuri reminded her, contemplative expression on his face. “Danced with Shah and actively ignored Georgi. It was a bit unsettling.”

“What happened between those two, anyway?” Viktor wondered, curious, “I’ve only gathered they used to date and that Anya hates Georgi’s guts for some reason.”

“That’s putting it nicely.” Mila smiled sheepishly. “They started dating during their third year, and when they returned from summer vacation for their sixth, Anya wasn’t on speaking terms with him any longer, and I say Anya was because it didn’t appear to be mutual. Georgi tried approaching her several times, but she lashed out like an angry cat and eventually, he just gave up. Started keeping his distance. It appears he has no idea where he went wrong, so no-one but Anya herself knows.”

“I found Georgi crying in the lavatory once.” Phichit told them. “It was sad, and very awkward.”

“We found him in an abandoned classroom last year.” Chris revealed. “That was quite awkward.”

“Oh yeah, we did.” Louis confirmed, sharing a feline grin with Chris. “And he tumbled into that broom closet on the second floor. Awkward for _him_.”

“ _Merci beacoup_ for too much information.” Viktor cut them off when Chris’ face told him they were about to steer the conversation away to completely different… territories. “In conclusion, no one really knows what happened between them.”

“Not a clue.” Yuuri shook his head, giving Viktor’s hand a squeeze. “But considering the fact that Anya has been holding a grudge for almost two years, it must have been _bad_.”

 

**

 

The game between Hufflepuff and Slytherin reminded Viktor that the final match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor was approaching very, very fast… which was less than very nice because he also had a bunch of exams to study for. He absolutely did not envy Yuuri, Phichit, Louis and Seung-Gil, not in the slightest, watching them pour over extraordinary amounts of thick books and scrolls littered with notes, occasionally finding vacant classrooms to practice.

It made Viktor absolutely not look forward to his own N.E.W.T.:s.

Sometimes, Yuuri practiced in the Room of Requirement, too, and Viktor got to shamelessly marvel at the grace with which he channeled spell after spell through his wand with a force that suggested they had been building up from the tips of his toes and circled the planet once before shooting out. All nonverbal.

Nonverbal magic seemed to come to Yuuri as easy as breathing, ‘seemed’ being the keyword, since Viktor was quite aware of the immense work and effort he put into it. Watching Yuuri practice, he understood more and more that while powerful, Yuuri never settled for ‘close enough’ or ‘been there, done that’, but went on and on beyond the point of what Viktor considered mastery until he probably could perform the spells in his sleep.

But when Yuuri switched to _wandless_ magic, Viktor nearly lost it.

…well, the situation might have had something to do with him losing it in general, but it definitely made it worse. All he could do was gape at Yuuri, who just hovered over Viktor looking like a kneazel that had just caught a juicy rabbit for dinner, as if he hadn’t just snapped his fingers and made things happen. Or rather, disappear.

“Ho-… _how?_ ” Viktor squeaked in surprise and shock, looking down at himself to make sure he really was not wearing clothes like he was certain he had been doing about ten seconds ago. Right before he (nearly) lost it.

Yuuri’s grin only widened. It wasn’t helping.

“Look it up, Vitya.” He suggested, snapping his fingers again and getting rid of his own clothes in the blink of an eye. “It’s called magic.”

Viktor had, in fact, looked it up later, and concluded Yuuri to be completely insane trying out something that wasn’t even on the Hogwarts curriculum so close to his N.E.W.T.:s. Wandless magic was complex and extremely limited, only able use for basic spells and transfiguration, and the range wasn’t anything to shout about either.

The morning after he had made their clothes disappear (and reappear on the chairs by their respective bedside tables), Yuuri demonstrated lighting candles with a clap of his hands, and stirring his tea without touching the spoon, merely rotating his finger in the air once for it to do the work for him. He also conjured up a flame in his palm, but somehow, Viktor was less surprised about that because of Yuuri’s inner fire. If he wanted to, he could probably set the entire castle ablaze with a flick of his wrist.

Still, as wandless magic was pretty neat, Viktor decided he needed to learn it sooner or later. Probably later. However neat it would be to be able to make their clothes disappear in an instant, Yuuri would have to provide that service for now, because Viktor didn’t have enough waking hours left in a day to think about it further.

His schedule was full as it was, with classes, homework, prepping for the end-of-the-year-exams, the DADA-tutoring Yuuri still provided him with, dance class… and Quidditch. Sara had been _relentless_ ever since Gryffindor took that crushing 410-to-0-victory against Hufflepuff, and after the last game, she only seemed to have solidified her resolve further.

Due to unpredictability that was Yuuri and the Gryffindor house team, they would have to hone their skills to shimmering crystal. Sara, Chris and Hilary threw smoother passes than ever, Seung-Gil seemed to be blocking all three hoops at once, and thanks to Louis and Sherwood, they barely remembered Bludgers existed at all.

And Viktor…

…yeah, he’d be _damned_ if he didn’t polish his skills into diamonds, because Phichit was _not_ catching that Snitch. Not in a million centuries.

Hence, the wind was screeching in his ears and the world around him faded into a blur of grey nothingness as he headed for the ground at high speed in a straight line, arm outstretched for a Snitch that wasn’t anywhere in sight. What the others were doing didn’t matter.

He had to get it right. For _once_.

Close enough to touch…!

Heart standing still and lungs not remembering how to function, Viktor harshly pulled his Firebolt to a halt, turned around fully and shot straight back up. The back end of his broom hadn’t brushed the ground and he cursed under his breath through gritted teeth. It had been close, but not close enough.

The Snitch was hovering above the Ravenclaw stands and Viktor turned his attention to the fluttering piece of frustration instead, changing course and setting off after it. It zoomed to the left. Viktor pursed his lips in concentration, careful to keep his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth and not between his teeth as he glued himself to the broom before shifting his weight in one swift motion. Changing trajectory without losing speed.

It was one of the few things he had to master if he wanted to gain ground over Phichit, whose broom might have been slightly slower though far more accurate and finely tuned.

The Yajirushis were definitely a problem for Ravenclaw. When Yuuri decided what he was going to do, it was as if the broom executed it for him on autopilot while he could concentrate on the Quaffle, dodging Bludgers and scoring goals, and when Phichit went for the Snitch, his broom seemed to know where the ball was, leaving it to Phichit to just reach out to grab the flutterbastard.

Of course, Viktor knew their brooms weren’t actually going on autopilot and that they did all of it themselves, but it really looked like the Yajirushis were able to read their rider’s minds. Much like a Firebolt, just a little better.

Viktor was certain he could win Phichit in a straight-line race to the Snitch. Too bad the Snitch didn’t really have a habit of going in a straight line, which meant he had to put more effort into getting the trajectory changes _perfe-_

…was that a whistle?

He caught the Snitch on instinct at the unexpected noise and turned around to have look. Madam Hooch was standing by the changing rooms and waving for them all to come down, red sparks flying from her wand to show urgency. Realizing she wasn’t alone, Viktor’s stomach dropped, dread rising from his gut to tighten around his throat.

Professor Cialdini was there, and while his expression looked calm, Viktor was absolutely certain it was a façade. If Professor Cialdini had come with Madam Hooch to get them, it could only mean they had wanted an auror in Viktor’s close proximity immediately, and that really didn’t make the heavy feeling of discomfort settling in his bones.

“We’re sorry to interrupt your practice like this,” Professor Cialdini apologized as they touched down in a hurry, Madam Hooch quickly summoning the Bludgers and relieving Hilary off the Quaffle while Viktor placed the Snitch into the crate, “but we need all of you to return to the castle and to the Great Hall immediately.”

“What’s going on, professors?” Sara wondered, wide-eyed, stuffing her robes into her training bag.

“The Headmistress will explain further.” Professor Cialdini promised, holding the door open for them to follow Madam Hooch up to the castle. “We hope it’s a false alarm, but it seems someone tried entering the castle through one of the hidden passages that were sealed after the Second Wizarding War. But, stay calm,” he added soothingly when Chris paled and Viktor was certain he would choke as his throat seized up, “the alarms are _very_ sensitive. It might just have been a persistent niffler looking for treasure.”

The look Cialdini offered Viktor suggested he didn’t even slightly believe in that possibility. It didn’t help the nausea pooling in his gut one bit.

They had barely entered the castle when Yakov appeared out of nowhere and placed an arm around Viktor’s shoulders to steer him elsewhere while the others were ushered into the Great Hall by Madam Hooch and the DADA-professor. No one questioned it, knowing Yakov had been Viktor’s mentor for many years, but Chris sent him a worried look before following Louis into the crowded hall.

A look from Yakov kept Viktor silent until they reached the Headmistress’ office, where Lilia and Okukawa were already present, along with Yuuri, who looked like he had been pacing back and forth forever when Viktor entered the room.

It was easy, falling into a pair of waiting arms and melting in a warm, familiar embrace. Viktor squeezed him tightly, fingers digging into the fabric of Yuuri’s robes and possibly leaving bruises, but Yuuri didn’t even flinch, holding him in a deathgrip.

“What happened?” Viktor finally found his voice to ask, not looking up from the safety of Yuuri’s neck.

“The Cave Inimicum-spell in one of the secret passages activated.” Lilia informed him swiftly. “The one leading to Hogsmeade, according to the Headmistress. The aurors are searching the village and Hogwarts with a fine-toothed comb as we speak.”

“Do we have any idea if they made it through, Lilia?” Okukawa asked, looking like she really could use a glass of Firewhiskey right there and then.

“Mr. Potter already confirmed that the intruder went in with the intention to pierce the defense spells, but halted their progress when they realized the aurors would come running before they would make it. When Mr. Longbottom reached the barrier from Hogsmeade, they had already fled, and the barrier was damaged but not pierced. It’s highly unlikely they made it in, but we’ll have to wait for a proper report.”

“All Hogsmeade trips will be canceled until it’s certain it’s safe.” The Headmistress marched into her office with Professor Cialdini in tow, looking much like the hardened warrior Viktor imagined her to have become during the years of fighting Lord Voldemort… and also like a storm cloud. “All barriers will be strengthened, we’re getting auror enforcements to Hogsmeade, and—” she peered at Viktor and Yuuri, “—your remaining Quidditch practices will be supervised by Professor Cialdini.”

Fair enough, Viktor thought, nodding along with Yuuri. His grip was tight enough to possibly tear Yuuri’s robes, but even though acknowledging it, he was unable to loosen his hands. He didn’t notice he was shaking from the shock settling into his bones before Yuuri conjured a chair and promptly sat them both down, pulling Viktor tightly to his chest.

…were Yuuri’s hands shaking, too?

He didn’t get the time to assess the observation further, though, because Mr. Potter suddenly appeared in the middle of the room, holding a… Snitch?... in his right hand. He looked frazzled and dead tired, black hair everywhere and midnight blue robes rumpled, face pale like a ghost and eyes sunken as if he hadn’t seen a bed in weeks. Perhaps he hadn’t.

“I bring less bad news, bad news, and more bad news.” He announced without further ado, placing the Snitch into a pouch in hi belt, expression grim and voice a little hoarse, as if he had been yelling for hours on end. “The less bad news is that whoever tried breaking the barrier didn’t succeed and didn’t make it through – they fled the scene when they realized they wouldn’t make it before the aurors came running due to the Cave Inimicum-spell. The bad news is that we haven’t been able to track the culprit, but we’ll keep looking the following 48 hours and then keep patrolling Hogsmeade around the clock.”

“And the more bad news, Mr. Potter?” Professor McGonagall voiced the question on everyone’s minds. Viktor was dreading the answer long before Mr. Potter sighed heavily.

“We’ll have to search and patrol Hogwarts, too.” He revealed, and Viktor was certain he could hear his stomach drop while his blood ran cold. “Neville found traces of magic on the other side of the seal that was placed in the passage after the Second Wizarding War. Someone tried helping the intruder through from the inside, failed to pierce the spells and fled.”

The silence following his words had Viktor close to fainting from suffocation. He could feel Yuuri’s heartbeat against the hand he had planted on his chest, squeezing the fabric. Yuuri’s grip on him had turned to iron.

They had known, they _had_ , but hearing it aloud from Mr. Potter made it all the more solid, real, and threatening. Someone inside Hogwarts’ sturdy walls was definitely helping Zimin, and the question was _who_.

 

**

 

“We need to find out exactly what happened to Yuri’s mother.”

Yuuri looked up from his arithmancy notes, readjusting his mind to comprehend what Vitor was talking about before nodding slowly.

“It might be important.” He agreed, furrowing his brows. “The easiest way to find out would be to ask.”

“I can’t write a letter to my parents in these circumstances.” Viktor frowned in turn, almost poking a hole in his parchment in frustration. “Too dangerous. We’ll have to ask Yakov or Lilia.”

Yuuri hummed in agreement, returning to his work with half a mind, “Then let’s ask either of them. Or both. Surely, given the situation, they would tell us.”

In the corner of his eye, he saw Viktor nod. The lump of dread that had started gathering in the pit of his stomach at the thought of finding out why Yuri lived with his grandfather stubbornly stayed where it was.

They would have to ask sooner rather than later.

 

“Irina Plisetsky…” there was a slight crease on Lilia’s brow as she slowly took a sip of her tea, “…I don’t know all the details. Yakov might be able to fill in.”

Yakkov merely grunted, something that could have been interpreted as “I can try” if one knew him well enough. Which Viktor did.

“She went to school with your father.” Lilia told them, indicating Viktor with a barely-there nod. “A year younger than Ilia. Passionate to a fault, striving for perfection but lacking the patience to work for it. Much like her son, I suppose… talented witch nevertheless.” She pursed her lips, then shook her head and placed the teacup down.

“Irina was infatuated with Zimin.” Viktor had to do a double take at that, glancing over at Yuuri briefly to meet his gaze, imagining his own eyes to be just as wide in surprise as his. “But Zimin was obsessed with Ilia, and he was less than interested in her, so in the end, she just gave up and never did anything about it. You could spot it from a mile away, though.”

“After the boys graduated, Irina had one more year to go, and then she moved to St. Petersburg at first. Some five or six years later, don’t remember exactly, she moved to Moscow for a job, and a few years after that…” Lilia shook her head, falling silent. Yakove reached for her teacup and handed it to her before taking over.

“Irina got pregnant.” He said grimly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Out of the blue. She had no memory of having had intercourse with anyone, she lived alone, didn’t have a partner, and even agreed to a legilimency-test to get her memory searched, but nothing was found. It was terribly curious, all of it.

“Then, when she reached the approximate halfway-mark of her pregnancy, she began showing signs of illness, and it steadily got worse. She was thoroughly examined at the hospital in Moscow, but they were unable to determine the cause of her rapidly deteriorating health, especially as the infant appeared to be healthy. So they brought the aurors in.”

Viktor was certain he was going to display the contents of his stomach onto the floor at any moment. His stomach was uncomfortably tight, churning mercilessly to the point his head was spinning. Yuuri’s grip was about to cut the blood flow to his fingers.

“A curse, Professor?” Yuuri asked, voice paper-thin.

Yakov, unfortunately, nodded.

“A terrible one. All of Miss Plisetsky’s strength was being absorbed by the unborn child, making it stronger while draining her life.”

“They wanted to remove the child, but Irina refused.” Lilia said quietly. “She was ready to die for her baby. Finding the curse confirmed that it was no miracle pregnancy, but that there was someone behind it, someone who clearly wanted her to carry a child to term with the intention of getting rid of Irina and taking the baby.”

“And this was linked to Zimin’s wish to have a child of his own with…?” Yuuri left the end of the question open, looking like he had to force the words out of his mouth, undoubtedly as nauseous as Viktor felt.

“It was. Too much of a coincidence not to be considered and investigated.” Yakov confirmed gruffly. “But Zimin denied everything and had solid alibies, so nothing was proven. Nikolai, Yuri’s grandfather, suspected Zimin strongly and didn’t give up without a fight, but eventually had to as no evidence was found.”

“As it was, Irina gave birth to Yuri a few months after the trial and passed away.” Lilia sighed. “They never found the bastard, though I believe Nikolai never stopped suspecting Zimin. Like Yakov said, too much of a coincidence. There are undeniable similarities in Yuri and Zimin’s appearances, too, but that’s not actually saying much, since Yuri is also like a living, breathing image of his mother. Irina was just as small and limber with blond hair and green eyes as he is.”

“Nikolai took Yuri under his wing and raised him alone.” Yakov continued, leaning back on the couch like a deflated sack of potatoes. “His suspicions only heightened when no one ever came to try and take Yuri away from him, and since he was uncomfortable with the thought of even residing in the same country as Zimin, he took Yuri with him to England so he could start school at Hogwarts instead of going to Koldovstoretz.”

“How much of this does Yuri know himself?” Viktor asked, voice hoarse from the lump in his throat.

“Knowing Nikolai, he has probably told Yuri what happened, but not about his suspicions, as there is no hard evidence to be found.” Lilia guessed. “If you ask me, though, Nikolai is right in his suspicions.”

Yakov nodded, hanging his head, “It’s too much of a coincidence.”

Viktor agreed. It made the situation go from very bad to infernal.

It also made him hate Zimin even more than he thought he would ever be capable of.

 

“Who?”

Viktor’s question was a whisper in the silence of the Room of Requirement. Yuuri’s frown only deepened at it, undoubtedly having been thinking about the same thing.

“No idea.” He replied, apparently just as much at a loss as Viktor was. “Nothing adds up to point at one single person. Yuri attacked Yakov but was unable to perform the Imperius Curse, and I suppose Anya has been acting strange lately, but…” he shook his head slowly, “…none of it makes much sense.”

“It _would_ make sense for the person to be Russian, though.” Viktor agreed, following Yuuri’s train of thought. “But the only one here we can possibly connect to Zimin in any way _is_ Yuri, unless Anya, Georgi, Mila, Yakov or Lilia are hiding something. I don’t want to think any of them do, Yuri included… but like you say, Anya has been acting strange.”

“Sure, but it’s not really _that_ strange.” Yuuri pondered, absentmindedly tracing patterns on Viktor’s arm with his fingers. “It’s her last year, and as long as she ignores Georgi’s existence, she seems to be fine. It might as well be that she just wants to enjoy the things she likes here before she graduates.”

“A more than likely explanation.” Viktor sighed, leaning further against Yuuri’s side, staring into the dancing flames in the fireplace. “Yakov has never given me a reason not to trust him. Is that reason enough to suspect him?”

He loathed the direction his thoughts were taking, but there wasn’t room to leave any stone unturned. Yuuri pulled him closer for comfort, as if he was using legilimency and knew exactly what Viktor was thinking.

“We shouldn’t forget it’s not necessarily anyone of them.” He reminded Viktor, sounding like he was trying to soothe his own mind too. “We might be dealing with a person in hiding, or someone using Polyjuice Potion.”

Viktor couldn’t quite decide which option was worse out of the three available. He frowned, squeezing his eyes shut as he buried his face into Yuuri’s neck, gluing himself to him as if someone had cast a Permanent Sticking Charm between them.

There are several kinds of dread, one worse than the other. The one that hits hard and fast like a tidal wave. The one where your instincts tell you to choose the lesser of two evils, even when you, in the end, will face the worse of them. The one where you’re threading on pins and needles, waiting. Anticipating.

That was the worst kind of dread.

“I just want this to end.”

 

**

 

“Mr. Robards, I need reinforcements. And the fastest owl available to fly to the IAA immediately.”

“Report, Mr. Potter.”

“Judge Plisetsky, sir. He’s gone.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *five-seconds-to-done-thesis glaring daggers at my face* I'm sorry, I'll finish you next week, I promise, Merlin please make the temperature drop to temperatures I can breathe in so I can function like a human being. Seriously. 40 degrees Celsius in this country shouldn't be possible, how has it been up to 40 for over a month now? Give me back my 15-25 degrees and I'll be happy. Our cats (plural! We adopted another ball of fluff! =^.^=) would surely be happy about that, too, poor things. They've been sleeping under our bed, and the smaller one also fits snugly beneath the couch. I've let them play with ice cubes.
> 
> Anyhow, being used to lower temperatures, I kind of stopped functioning like a human being when I returned from a week-long dance festival in Sweden, and my boyfriend wasn't faring much better, so we just headed out to the archipelago looking for cool winds. We didn't find any, so we returned home, he went to work and I went to visit my family who lives in a town where it's generally a little cooler. It didn't help, other than the fact that they have a heat pump. Might have saved my sanity for a week.
> 
> So I headed back home, went back to work (thank Merlin it was actually about 20 degrees in my office!), adopted another cat and slowly found the will to live again. I've barely touched a computer for a month (before I headed back to work). Strange thought. That also means I haven't really written in a month either, other than with pen and paper. Very strange.
> 
> So I'm warming up my fingers (and cooling down my head) with this little chapter right here. And- 
> 
> -uh sorry, what? Cliffhanger? I don't know what you're talking about. I would never. *fingers crossed behind my back* You're mistaken.
> 
> _We're nearing the end, people!_
> 
> Thank you so, so, so much for your continuous support and love - I've enjoyed writing this since chapter 1, and it's mostly (like 99%) thanks to all of you. It's been a wild ride, and it's not over just yet.
> 
> I would hug you, but I'm so sweaty and gross (I just took a cold shower for Merlin's sake!) I don't dare. Sending much love and thanks instead <3 you all are amazing!

**Author's Note:**

> As one last attempt to brace myself: please note that I've grown up with and read the HP books an unfathomable amount of times in Swedish, which is my native language. I've read the entire series in English only once. The thing is that some names for characters/places/spells/and so forth have been changed in the translations, and sooner or later, I will undoubtedly make the mistake of writing a wrong name for something somewhere. Most I know, and I try to continuously check those I'm unsure about.
> 
> So please, if you notice I've made a mistake - tell me so I can fix it! The same goes for language errors; English is my third language, and I'm bound to make errors.


End file.
